


The Great IKEA Game

by IcedAquarius



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: And they decide to cause some trouble, Boy meets girl in an IKEA, Chaos, Crack, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Damian's pocket full of never ending plot conveniences, EPIC hide and seek, F/M, Fire, Hide and Seek, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I got a ton of plot in it, I went to an IKEA once, Jason swearing an overwhelming amount, Lasers, Magic Theory, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Is a Mess, The poor poor IKEA employees, Thief Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Tim needs coffee, Tricks, Vents, he's not going to get it, how much of this is accurate, look my first crack fic, marinette's gymnastic skill, oh no, when I was five, who knows!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcedAquarius/pseuds/IcedAquarius
Summary: All Marinette wanted to do was buy some dishes and twinkle lights.Instead, she got wrapped up in an all-out game of hide-and-seek between four of the most well-trained vigilantes in the world. Involving Home Alone-esque traps, crushed forklifts, a surprising amount of shoplifting considering they're the good guys, and the beginnings of an epic bond with a smirking laser wielding maniac.Not that she knew that at the time. All she saw was a cute guy hiding behind a desk, and the rest was history.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne
Comments: 917
Kudos: 1501





	1. Meet the Players

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is the same fic as the one on Tumblr, yes I'm the same author - I've just done a bit of editing and expanding for the early chapters. Come visit me at [batsandbugs](https://batsandbugs.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.

Marinette originally came to the IKEA an hour outside of Gotham to buy twinkle lights for her new living room. She eventually extended her trip into obtaining new dishes since all the ones she owned right now were actually empty takeout containers she kept rewashing. She would have been content buying what she needed and heading off on her way, (no, she wasn't lonely Plagg, she had two dozen mini-gods to keep her company, shut up) but halfway between the bedding and lights sections, Marinette’s life changed forever. 

For the better, if she was being honest. 

She never would have realized it if she hadn’t ducked into a showroom to test out a couch. She settled against the fluffy folds, stroking the fabric, a pity it wouldn't survive ten minutes if she ever brought it home. When out of the corner of her eye, a movement drew her attention. A boy, no man, about her age, hiding behind a desk looking for all the world as if he were plotting world domination or someone’s demise. 

They looked at each other in shock for a moment. 

“Are… are you ok-”

“Shhh!” his green eyes narrowed, and boy, Marinette had been on the receiving end of death glares before, but this one had to take the cake. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. 

He rolled his eyes. “Do you see a group of dark-haired obnoxious idiots out there?” 

The request was an odd one, but Marinette rose from the couch and glanced around outside of the showroom. She didn’t see anyone fitting his description. She shook her head. 

He smirked. “My idiot older brothers dragged me along for a “family bonding experience”." He made the little quotation marks, and Marinette never thought anyone could look cool doing that, but somehow this person nailed it. "Tt. I’ve successfully avoided them for an hour. Didn’t know when the coast would be clear though.” He rose gracefully from the ground, with the grace of a prince, rather than a crazy person hiding from his family. 

It was absurd. 

Marinette found herself instantly amused. 

“I have friends exactly like that, I totally get it,” she said, thinking how Adrian would be beside himself when she told him the story later. The pang of loneliness present since she’d left her friends in Paris, for college in America re-emerged. She shook her head clear of the maudlin thoughts. 

The Kwamis would have had a field day with this idea too, thankfully she left them in her severely under-furnished apartment for the day in order to avoid the squabbling that came with taking a few of them out of the house at a time. 

Marinette looked back out at the hallway again. Would the man's brothers soon appear? She found herself invested in what would happen. “What are you going to do now?” 

“Well, Grayson has the keys, and those idiots will insist on participating in these shenanigans till the store closes, so…” he shrugged. 

“Are they like… furnishing a whole house?” Marinette didn’t know how you could spend an entire day here. Sure, it was big, but… 

“No. We’re engaged in a no holds barred game of hide-and-seek.” Marinette’s mouth dropped open. “If one of them catches me I become the seeker.” 

“Why?” 

He smirked, “Because I’ve held out the longest.” 

"No, I mean, why are you playing hide-and-seek?" It seemed an odd choice for a bunch of adults. Well, Marinette and her friends would do it. But they also willingly became superheroes at the age of fourteen so their judgment was already in question. 

He shrugged. "My oldest brother thought it would be fun, and our father is... out of town at the moment," he said with a bit of hesitation. 

“So, you’re just going to hide in this showroom till the store closes?” 

A devious smile spread across the man’s handsome features. “No. I intend to troll them. If Grayson wants my participation, I'm going to make him regret it.” 

It was at that moment, she crossed the point of no return, not that Marinette knew it yet.

Throwing away any idea of finishing her shopping today she returned his smirk. “Any chance I could join you in your crusade?” 

The guy looked her over suspiciously. “Why should I allow a stranger to join me and potentially ruin my chances at victory?” 

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, your brothers know you well?” He nodded. “Then they likely know what you’ll do to avoid and troll them. You need a fresh perspective. Plus, I can operate out in the open, I’m not officially a part of the game.” 

“Hmm...” his face was impassive; Marinette couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “You make some good points, but I’m not fully convinced.” 

Marinette huffed, “I also grew up in Paris without being akumatized.” 

He looked at her oddly. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Paris had a terrorist for five years that turned people into monsterized versions of themselves if they felt negative feelings. They were called Akuamas. Everyone in my class had it happen to them at least once. More for some particularly loose cannons.” 

The guy looked bewildered. “Why didn’t anyone hear about this?” 

Marinette shrugged, trying to play off her knowledge as what a normal civilian would know. “Combination of corrupt politicians, social media blackouts, and magic. People died during these attacks, but everything was put to rights at the end of every fight due to the superheroes powers.” 

His mouth dropped, but he recovered quickly looking contemplative. “I want to know more about this at a later time, but if what you say is true you can control yourself better than the average peon. But my brothers and I are a combination of street orphans, circus brats, gymnastics freaks, and geniuses - are you sure you can keep up?” 

Marinette nearly laughed at his description but managed to keep a straight face. “Positive.” 

“Alright, I'll do whatever it takes to win.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Damian.” 

She took it, feeling a slight shock as her fingers touched his. “I’m Marinette, nice to meet you, Damian.” 

“You won’t be saying that soon enough,” he said with a slight smirk. He looked over her shoulder. “Shit.” He dove beneath the desk he’d been hiding behind earlier. “Tall guy with the white streak in his hair.” Marinette turned to look. “Don’t make it too obvious,” he hissed. 

Marinette grabbed her phone and leaned against the desk. With small side glances, she saw a man probably mid-to-late twenties with two-toned hair. He wore a leather jacket and seemed to be searching for something, or someone. 

“Who’s that?” she asked quietly. 

“Second oldest brother, Jason Todd - arguably the most and least dangerous.” 

“Why both?” 

“He did not want to participate initially, so he’s reluctant, but at the same time, he hates losing. He’ll hang on to the bitter end. More resourceful than the other two, and more violent, although less sophisticated.” 

Jason moved closer to their showroom. 

“Hush, he’s headed this way,” she whispered. Damian remained quiet and Marinette tried to make herself look busy. 

“Quick question miss?” Marinette glanced up from her phone. Jason stood at the entrance to the showroom. 

“Oh, uh, oui? Non, non, I mean yes?” Marinette said in an exaggerated accent, playing into the oblivious tourist stereotype always came in handy. 

“Oh French, shit, haven’t spoken that in a while,” he muttered. “Um...” 

“Non, it iz okay, I speak English well. Can I help you?” She batted her eyes just a bit. Marinette had long since grown from the days of not using all her advantages - courtesy of forced confidence from Chole. A friendship no one had seen coming but had grown quick and strong once they reached an understanding. 

“Oh, I’m looking for my little brother, about yay high, black hair, green eyes, permanent scowl. Have you seen him?” 

Marinette pretended to think for a second. “Non... I do not theenk so, perhaps help desk at zee front?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jason said, Marinette could see he had already written her off as useless. “Thanks, anyway.” He walked away quickly. 

There was a minute of silence. “Coast is clear,” said Marinette once Jason was out of sight. 

Damian popped up, a gleam in his eyes. “Your lying skills are adequate; we may just win this yet.” 

“I’m glad to meet such high approval, monsieur. Let’s get going.” 


	2. Disguises and Calling Cards

They skirted along the edges of the showroom. Damian explained his brothers were tech wizzes and would no doubt be watching the security cams if they already had access.   
  
“Our first line of business is to mess up their ability to track us,” he said, taking out his phone, “we need to disable the cameras completely.” 

Marinette blanched, could he disable the security cameras with his phone alone? 

“We can’t do that! What about the rest of the customers? They need to be watched. Those cameras are used for safety.” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “Great I’ve landed myself with a partner who had no sense of the bigger picture.” 

Marinette huffed, “I do too, but we need to think of consequences. The security team will shut the system down and restart everything. Which leaves us at square one again.” 

“Well I’m not hearing any ideas from you,” he snarled. Damian pointed to a small corridor out of the way. “Let’s go there until we figure out a plan.”

Squeezed between two displays, their chests inches apart from one another, Marinette realized how tall and muscular Damian was. He could easily command a room with his presence alone - her designer brain, constantly on as it was, nearly drooled. He’d make a superb model. 

She shook those less than useful thoughts away. 

He peered at her with a tilt to his head, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “So... what’s a girl from Paris doing moving to the most dangerous city in America?” 

“I thought that was Bludhaven.” 

Damian rolled his eyes, “Depends on your definition of dangerous. I’ll take the drugs and gangs over the Joker any day of the week.” 

She shrugged. “Gotham University has a good fashion and design program.” 

“Other cities have better ones,” he responded. 

“I wanted a change of scenery.” 

“Prettier cities exist which aren’t villain infested.” 

Marinette didn’t know what else to say without sounding like a loon. 'Oh, I came to Gotham because an ancient magical box full of tiny gods pinpointed this location as a well of chaos and misery. It needs the attention of the wielder of the powers of the universe, which is me, by the way. Hi!' She was sure that would go over just _swell._

“I guess it was luck.” 

“Bad luck, perhaps.” 

She smiled. “I’m not one for having much bad luck.” 

“I would say you do, your shopping trip has turned into a showdown between _very_ competitive brothers. And you happened to get stuck with me.” 

Marinette laughed. “I don’t consider that bad luck.” She dropped her voice to a tone she would use for flirting. For a reason she couldn’t place, this guy intrigued her and drew her in. Damian’s face turned red in the fluorescent light. 

Marinette dragged her eyes over Damian again, watching his muscles flex even through the fabric of his shirt...

Oh... 

She looked at what they were wearing - her outfit consisted of a fluffy pink sweater with a long brown coat. He, in black slacks, a black turtleneck, and a black blazer. She surveyed the room beyond their hiding spot and saw a rack of clothes. 

“How morally adverse are you to modifying products before we buy them?” she asked, a plan forming in her mind. 

Damian startled at the change of conversation, but he scoffed in response to her question. “Assume I have no morals.” 

Marinette paused. “Do you not _have_ morals?” 

"I do, but winning trumps everything but murder today.” 

“Are you open to murder other days?” 

He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “The universe sure likes to tempt me.” His tone was joking, but when he looked back at her the glint in his eyes was anything but. Hardened steel and mired guilt swam in them. Marinette recognized that look well. 

In Chloe’s eyes when Sabrina had been stabbed by an Akuma. 

In Adrian’s eyes when he realized his father was Hawkmoth. 

In Kagami’s eyes when half of Paris had burned. 

In Luka’s eyes when he had to restart the fight over and over and over again so they could have a _chance_ at winning. 

In her own eyes when faced with the well-being of an entire city besieged by a madman. 

The creeping panic and anxiety which had been her constant companion since fourteen was ruthlessly squashed. 

_They had won._

That was what mattered. 

“Fair enough,” she croaked. Damian peered at her quizzically, but she ignored him. “Can your brothers cross-reference height and skin color to search for you, or are they searching for a person with your general look?” 

“Well, Drake didn’t bring his computer; with only his phone, I don’t think he has that specific program available.”

Marinette nodded, although she wondered why on earth they would have programs like that even _on_ their computers. “Perfect, give me your jacket.” 

He unbuttoned the blazer. “Why?” 

“Because they’re looking for a tall boy in black. We’re about to become masters of disguise.” Marinette casually strolled out of their hiding place and over to the rack of clothes. She winced at the prices of the poorly made garments - highway robbery. 

Taking what she thought she would need, she motioned for Damian to follow her to a corner showroom. She put the clothing on a butcher block table.

“We’ll need to pay for this later.” 

Damian shrugged. “I have it covered.” 

Marinette started to protest, but he reminded her they were running on borrowed time. Reluctantly shelving the argument, she opened her bag and brought out her travel sewing kit. 

Less than ten minutes later - they both ducked behind the table when a passing employee came by their display - they walked out with radically different clothes - and a hat and fake glasses for Damian. 

“Why do you have these in your bag?” He said pushing the glasses up his nose. 

Marinette remembered the times fans would mob Adrian in the streets and the increasingly convoluted lengths she and their friends would go through to disguise themselves. “You’d be surprised how many times they’ve come in handy. So, where to next?” 

“We need to find something to mark our presence - a symbol my brothers would notice and figure out the fact they've missed us. Our calling card to frustrate them.” They weaved through the crowds ducking their heads anytime they thought they saw dark hair - as he informed her all his brothers had. 

“You could write your name?” 

“Too plebeian.” 

Marinette thought for a moment, “Is there a shared memory they would recognize, something they would know was from you?” They stopped in front of a display of hand towels. Beautiful nature designs decorated the fabric. Damian stared at them thoughtfully before grabbing an armful. 

“May I borrow those scissors of yours?” 

“Sure?” 

They settled in another display room, pink and delicate and covered in fairy lights - exactly what Marinette hoped her apartment would have looked like by the end of the week. 

She ran her hand over the soft fabric of the couch she sat on, remembering the lonely chair which she had been using since she’d arrived in Gotham. Her skin tingled, and she looked up; Damian watched her in fascination, when he realized she had seen him, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights and quickly turned back to cutting out fabric, his cheeks and ears turning red. She smiled; he was cute. 

“What are you doing?” She asked Damian, as he cut into the hand towels without blinking an eye. 

“They’re covered in robins,” he told her, his voice a little scratchy. “This is Gotham.” 

“Oh, that makes sense. Are you sure they’ll understand it though? It’s broad for a city that knows exactly who its’ heroes are.” 

“First off, they’re vigilantes,” he said, not looking up. “Second they’ll _definitely_ get it. We’ve had too many run-ins with them not to.” 

“I thought people generally didn’t interact with them too much?” At least not unless you were a criminal, not for the first time since meeting Damian, Marinette wondered who exactly she had teamed herself up with. 

“My family’s a bit... _special_ ,” Damian said sneering, fully over his earlier embarrassment. He finished cutting out the last robin. He handed her the cutouts and swept the scrap fabric into his hands. “Place one here in full view, and I’ll find a place to dispose of these.” 

He walked out of the room. 

Marinette sighed and tacked the fabric robin to the couch she’d been sitting on. She glanced around the room and tried picking out different pieces she liked, she’d have to see if any of the thrift shops near her house had anything similar to it - the prices for even the small items were way too expensive.

“Trying to shop?” Asked Damian coming back into the display room. 

“Nah, I’ll have to come back on a different day. Besides, it’s too expensive anyway. I was mostly here for inspiration anyway.” She ran her fingers over the fluffy couch. “Pity though, it’s a nice couch.” 

Ducking out of the room, she expected Damian to follow her, but when she looked behind her, he still stood in the room with his phone out. 

“Come on we need to go - they’ll be on our trail soon.” 

He clicked his phone off, with a small genuine smile on his face, the first she’d seen from him. “Alright, I’m coming.” Marinette put the tiny little exchange out of her mind, as they headed deeper into the store. Intent on winning, whatever the cost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me at [batsandbugs](https://batsandbugs.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


	3. Food Court Shenanigans

Cautiously they snuck around from display to display - hiding their cloth robins in increasingly creative places, on a corkboard, with a dining set, on a fake bird. It became somewhat of a competition to find the best place within the display room. 

They remained serious in their mission at first, but soon conversation flowed. Snide comments about passing customers, little anecdotes - Damian’s humor was hilarious once you understood his sarcasm and pointed edges were just a defense mechanism (it reminded her of Chloe)- and joking around. Well, as much as they could be, being on the lookout for his older brothers. 

Over an hour they hid over thirty birds, changed outfits twice, spotted Jason another time, which resulted in Damian diving behind some fake curtains while Marinette tried not to drool over a butcher-block table perfect for a sewing room (but which was way too expensive). 

“Coast is clear,” Marinette called, once Jason once again disappeared. Damian slid out from behind the curtain and joined her by the table. 

“This is nice,” he said. “But I like the dark oak better.” He pointed to the options available, and Marinette had to agree.

“Yeah, but my cabinets are light brown. Not that I need this or can afford it for that matter. I didn’t have a proper workstation even when I was in Paris.”

“Why not?” 

“No room. My parents had the bakery downstairs, then they lived on the second floor. I lived in a converted attic, which was great - I even had a balcony, but my computer desk took up a lot of room.” She shrugged a little self-consciously. “Besides, my projects always ended up splayed all over the floor, anyway.” 

“That’s fair,” he said with a small nod. He pulled out a map of the store, although Marinette couldn’t ever remember seeing ones to pick up. “We've neared the end of the showrooms - or at least the ones we placed calling cards in - once we enter the warehouse we’ll be out in the open. I’m sure one of my brothers are stationed there.” 

“Question is do we want to leave calling cards on the shelves of the warehouse, or do we need to avoid them more?” Marinette asked. 

Damian considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “We’ve still got several hours to go - open and bold moves now are an unnecessary risk. I would propose avoiding it altogether, but…” he trailed off. 

“What?” she prompted. A loud rumbling sound erupted from her stomach, and Marinette instantly wanted to die. Damian bit his lip, holding off a small smile. 

“Oh, laugh it up.” Marinette rolled her eyes, studiously ignoring the burning in her cheeks. “All I had to eat today was a pack of crackers.” 

“I thought you might be hungry - you could go grab something to eat from the food court and take a break if you wanted?” 

Marinette frowned. “But what about you? Aren’t you hungry?” 

Damian waved her off. “Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve gone longer than a few hours without food before.” His eyes were hard and cold, opposite of the teasing glint that had been there a moment before. It sent a small shiver down Marinette’s spine. It was obvious to anyone - or maybe it was just her - that Damian had been through _things._

But it didn’t sit right with her to head off to the safety of the food court and leave him alone and without food. While he had seemed perfectly capable of handling himself before she came along Marinette was very invested in how this turned out.

“How about I go grab both of us something to eat, come back here, and then we work on our next move from there?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Fine, if it makes you feel better.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black wallet.

Marinette shook her head. “No, no, I can-”

He shoved a black metallic card into her hands; it weighed more than she thought it should. 

“I insist.”

“I have money.”

“So do I.”

“I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not–it’s… payment.”

“I’m doing this for fun.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” He crossed his arms and glared. It might have worked. If Marinette had been someone else. But she had been subjected to both Chole and Kagami’s overprotective and stubborn glares for _years. This_ was nothing in comparison.

“I can pay, it’s nothing.”

He rolled his eyes again. “You’re a college student, it’s _not_ nothing. Take. The. Card.”

Marinette threw her hands in the air. “Fine, you stubborn man.” A brief smile overtook Damian’s features, and then he dove out of sight. She turned to leave.

“I’m a vegetarian," he called. "Nothing with meat. And the pin is 1914.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in fifteen.” Walking away with the card in hand, she felt a little guilty for not fighting more. She was the one who was hungry, and who had offered to get him food. He didn’t need to give her his card.

Sighing in fond exasperation, she left the end of the display rooms. The warehouse section was large with rows upon rows of metallic shelving covered in boxes, but the food court sat off to the side; easy to find. It was mildly busy for a weekend afternoon, so she quickly stood in line and figured out what to order.

As she placed her order, she thought for a moment about just buying everything with her card, and then returning it to Damian as if she used it. She had a sneaking suspicion he would see right through that. Even after years of being a superhero, she still sucked at lying directly to someone’s face.

She scrolled through her phone, enjoying the slight break off her feet when she heard a familiar-sounding voice.

“Damn it, I don’t see the demon spawn,” growled an irritated voice.

Jason.

It was only years of practiced eavesdropping that stilled Mariette’s head from turning toward voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Damian’s older brother running a hand through his two-toned hair. A slightly smaller, but no less attractive man stood next to him, frowning at his phone.

“His credit card just pinged; he can’t have left that quickly.”

Marinette felt herself grow completely still at the mention of the credit card.

 _‘I am_ so _going to tell him, I told you so,’_ she thought furiously in her mind. How the hell would she leave without looking suspicious?

A third man jogged up to the two. A little older than them, but still just as attractive.

 _'This entire family looks like they could be on the cover of a freaking magazine,’_ grumbled the part of her mind that was not overtaken with panic.

“I just checked the perimeter. No sign of him. Are you sure the charge was for the food court, Timmy?”

The man with the phone rolled his eyes. “Yeah–It comes out as $8.32, IKEA Food Court, order number 177.”

“Order 177. Order 177. Your food is ready,” called out a server. They placed the food on the counter, and Marinette saw the men all turn in sync to where the order laid innocently on the counter.

Marinette felt her stomach rumble again but knew the food was out of her reach now. Sacrifices had to be made to win.

 _‘Damn, I was looking forward to those meatballs and fries.’_ No. She had to get out of here without Damian’s brothers noticing anything suspicious. They walked over to the counter, probably to ask the server who had ordered the food and which way they had gone.

Shit. She didn’t have any time.

Tapping on her locked screen, she placed it up to her ear as if taking a call.

“Hey Chole, yeah, no good to hear from you…” She rose from the plastic picnic bench. Only a few minutes before had seemed like such a nice place to rest, now it mocked her. She strolled away from the food court calmly, knowing one wrong move and she would be found out.

She reached into her bag, still walking normally, and grabbed a small metallic ball. It had a green paw print on the front.

Now, this was an experiment she and the kwamis had worked on over the summer. With a little help from Max–not that he knew what it was for–they had siphoned off a bit of pure energy from the Kwami’s and placed it into a small metallic ball that could be activated in a time of need. Mostly when it wasn’t safe to transform. It wasn’t super powerful and, so far, they’d only managed it with Plagg and Tikki, but it was something.

 _‘A bit of bad luck to distract them,’_ Marinette thought.

Now, strictly speaking, this wasn’t exactly what they had in mind when creating the little devices, but desperate times called for desperate measures and all that.

She pressed the small paw print–using a bit of her own energy to activate the device–and threw it on the ground, letting it roll. She continued to walk calmly, and by the time she reached the entrance back to the showrooms, a clatter of noise erupted behind her. She only let herself glance back for a second, watching as a mostly empty display shelf collapsed onto an empty forklift.

Marinette winced. Hopefully, nothing was _too_ damaged. 

Off to the side she saw multiple people had gotten into a traffic jam with their shopping carts, and… oh, everything had spilled out of one, and another looked like it had lost two wheels.

… okay, maybe the balls were a _bit_ powerful.

Seeing she wasn’t being followed, she picked up her pace and made her way back to the showroom she’d left Damian at. Along the way, she saw multiple employees rushing toward the warehouse section. She felt a little bad for them, it would be a mess cleaning all this up, but it was her best shot at a clean escape.

After what felt like forever, but was just five minutes, she made it back to Damian’s hiding spot. Taking a moment to check her surroundings, she glanced around, not seeing any of Damian’s brothers. She breathed a small sigh of relief. She entered the showroom and ducked behind the counter.

“We need to go,” she whispered.

“Where’s the food?”

She shook her head. “Who cares about the food, we have bigger problems. Your brothers were waiting in ambush.” She shoved his credit card back at them. “They tracked your card.”

“Damn it,” Damian muttered.

She paused, thinking over the absurdity of the situation. “Who tracks their brother’s credit card?”

“People who want to win. What about you, Miss Disguises-in-your-purse?”

“They’ve come in handy multiple times.”

_“Attention all IKEA customers be warned that aisles seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, and twenty are now closed because of potentially unsafe shelving units. We’re sorry for the inconvenience.”_

Damian looked at her with a questioning glance, “Did you…?”

“I needed a distraction.”

“How… you know what… no, never mind.” He shook his head, but a small smile told Marinette it amused him.

“They’ll know you’re working with a partner if they get anything out of the server at the register. We need a better hiding spot.”

“Well, while you caused chaos, I figured out our next move.” He motioned her to follow him, and they crept along the floor to the back of the showroom. He moved aside a curtain to reveal an air conditioning grate big enough for both of them to crawl into. “The ventilation layout shows this running straight back to the loading docks, which have rooftop access. We can access another shaft which will take us back to the front of the store. I figured the long route would be safer than going the ground route.”

“Genius.” Said Marinette in amazement, although slightly wondering how on earth he got access to something like ventilation layouts.

“I am aware.”

“But how will we get it off the wall? I have a sewing kit, not a tool belt.”

Damian reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

“That’s a pen,” Marinette deadpanned.

“It’s a specially designed pen.” He grasped the top. “Avert your eyes.” Marinette glanced away, but then heard the sizzle of metal, and felt the warm rush of heat.

She looked. In Damian’s hand was a small laser, shaped like a pen, easily cutting through the metallic grate blocking off the air shaft.

“It’s a _LASER?”_ Marinette whispered in a shriek. “You… just _have_ a _laser_ in your pocket.”

“Well, you apparently disabled four industrial shelving units with your _mind._ ” He grabbed hold of the grate as it came loose and placed it behind the curtain.

“I didn’t disable _four_ shelving units. Just one,” she paused, “and a forklift… and some shopping carts. Just enough to cause a distraction.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, but she could see the glee lurking beneath the surface. She couldn’t help the smile spreading across her own face. Something about Damian was infectiously fun and absurd. Marinette was reminded of her earlier days as a hero before the weight of the city fully settled on her shoulders. Back when fights were simple, and midnight patrols were racing across the Parisian rooftops–making the blood in her veins pound with the rhythm of her steps.

She missed it.

“Ladies, first,” Damian said, gesturing to the vent.

“Thanks.” She crawled in, beyond grateful she decided to wear pants that day. Damian crawled in right behind her and readjusted the curtain over the uncovered air shaft.

She grabbed her phone from her bag and turned on the light. Holding it and crawling was difficult, but it was better than crawling around in total darkness. It was times like this where she questioned the absolute insanity of her life.

She wouldn’t have it any other way, though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me at [batsandbugs](https://batsandbugs.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


	4. The Three Stooges

Tim wondered when his day took a solid dive off the cliffs of normal and into the waters of weird.

It probably started when Dick dragged them out of bed at eight in the morning – on a Saturday – piled them into the car, and drove them an hour and a half out of the city to an IKEA. If they had actually been there to shop they would have either burned the store down or killed one another. 

Not that those things were off the table yet. 

Tim had work, actual work, that he could be doing. But no, instead he was playing a demented game of hide-and-go-seek, which was careening into an all-out war. The destroyed shelving units, shopping carts, and the forklift were unmistakable evidence of that.

How had the demon spawn accomplished this in less than a minute?

Bruce would kill them, once he came back from off-world.

That is if Alfred didn’t get to them first.

“Uh, order 177?" The counter worker sighed. "Shit, my pay isn't enough for this.”

The words shook Tim from his stupor. He walked over to the counter.

“Hi,” he said, flashing his most charming CEO grin. “I have a quick question?”

The server's fixed customer service smile contrasted with his dull eyes.

“I need to know what way the boy who ordered this headed.”

“No.”

Tim sighed, “Look, it’s important. My brother-”

“I mean, no, it wasn’t a boy.”

Tim paused. “Huh?”

“It was a girl, a teen girl. Black hair, big blue eyes, French accent. She sat over there,” he waved at an empty table. “But I think she walked away before that happened.” Referring to the giant train wreck occurring a few aisles over.

“Oh,” said Tim. “Thanks.”

“Do you want the order?”

Tim held back an annoyed sigh.

“Sure.”

So that’s how he, Jason, and Dick, sat at the abandoned picnic table, staring at the abandoned meal bought with Damian’s credit card. Jason grabbed a couple of fries and shoved them in his mouth.

“That’s evidence, nitwit,” hissed Tim.

Jason ignored him, stabbing a meatball with the plastic fork. “What? It’s going to go to waste. Girlie obviously ain’t coming back for it.”

“We should be more worried about how a random girl used Damian’s credit card!”

“She could have stolen it?” offered Dick.

“Demon spawn would have broken her arm before getting pickpocketed,” countered Jason, eating another fry. Silence. A weird glint appeared in Jason's eye. He turned to Tim. “What did you say the girl looked like again?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, French accent.”

“Shit,” muttered Jason.

“What?”

“I think I ran into her earlier, about an hour and a half ago. Asked her if she had run into demon spawn – she sounded confused and tourist-like. But maybe…”

“Maybe she’s working with him?” offered Tim.

“Could be.”

“Damian? Working with another person? A stranger?” Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like him.”

Jason shoved another fry into his mouth. “The brat’s a competitive little shit, if he thought teaming up would help him get ahead, he’d do it in a heartbeat.” He pointed a fry at Tim. “Can you look at the security footage?”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you,” Tim said, flashing his phone with the hacked in security camera footage on-screen. Jason and Dick huddled in close as a small girl walk on screen and stood at the counter.

“Yep, that’s her. Can you ID her, Timmy?”

Tim rolled his eyes, “This is a smartphone, Jay, not a laptop.”

“I thought Mr. World’s _Second_ Greatest Detective would be prepared for anything.”

“Well excuse me for not having facial recognition software, _on my phone_.”

“Guys chill.”

“Shut up, Dick,” Jason and Tim said in unison.

The footage played out and they watched the girl order two meals and pay with Damian’s credit card. They switched to another camera when she left and sat at the picnic table. A few minutes later Jason and Tim walked into frame.

“Look, there! She tenses. Look at her body language, she’s panicking. She knows who you two are.” Dick looked shocked that, yes, Damian had teamed up with a partner.

They watched the girl panic, although she managed to keep her body from reacting too much. She placed her phone to her ear and walked away from her spot.

“Who is she talking to?”

“Maybe Damian watched out of sight?”

“Shoot, Tim, she’s out of frame. Do we have another angle?”

It took another minute or so, but Tim found the right security camera catching the mysterious girl leaving the food court. As she walked away the image on the screen flickered, and a moment later the shelving units fell.

“Oh crap,” swore Jason. “Do you think she has magic? Fuck, it would be just our luck if demon spawn teamed up with someone dangerous.”

Dick shook his head. “It could be a coincidence. We didn’t _see_ her do anything. The chaos could have been a coordinated effort between her and Damian.”

Tim wasn’t so sure. “Come on Dick, you’ve been in the game long enough to know just because something _looks_ one way, doesn’t mean it's true.”

They watched the girl hurry out of sight, this time it was much more difficult to follow her progress through the store. She randomly ducked in and out of showrooms, coming out differently than how she came in. If the three boys hadn’t been trained in stealth and detection for years, they would have had a challenging time tracking her.

Jason whistled low. “Who is this chick? I’m impressed. She has serious skill.”

Finally, she ducked into a showroom and didn’t come out. Tim couldn’t find a camera giving them an unobstructed view, but it didn't matter. They had a destination. 

“This was ten minutes ago, they could already be long gone,” said Dick.

“Or they could still be hiding there,” countered Jason.

“We’ll find out when we get there.” They walked out of the cafeteria and past the closed aisles. The forklift that had been buried under the collapsed shelving unit was being unearthed by a flock of bewildered employees.

“Ten bucks says she has magic,” said Jason.

“Yeah, no.” Tim was good at math and the odds of everything happening just as she left was too big to be a coincidence. “I’m not stupid enough to take that bet.”

“Come on you guys, let’s focus here,” chided Dick.

Walking back through the showrooms Tim kept an eye out for any sign of his brother or his accomplice, but it was as if they had disappeared into thin air. Arriving at the last location they had spotted the girl, they waited for a touring couple to leave before descending on the tiny, boxed room like the detectives they were trained to be.

It didn’t take long to discover the lasered off vent.

“Shit,” groaned Jason. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“Tim can you-”

Tim had his phone in hand, “I’m already on it. I’ll have the vent layout in a minute.” He felt insulted they even needed to ask.

Jason peered into the vent, “Damn, I think we’re too big to follow.”

Dick sighed. “I miss my vent crawling days; they just don’t make them as big as they used to.”

“That’s what she said,” snickered Jason.

“Focus you two,” Tim snapped. “I’ve pulled up the air duct plans.” He flashed the screen to his two brothers who settled down. “This particular vent runs a couple of places. We have one entrance at the back of the store in the storeroom. Then another veering off near the daycare center, and the last which comes out near the unloading dock.”

“I’ll take the one next to the daycare center,” said Dick. “I’m the only one who isn't demented,” pointing to Jason, “or sleep-deprived,” pointing to Tim.

“Hey!” exclaimed Jason.

Tim sneered, repressing a Damian-like growl, “I wouldn’t be so sleep deprived if you hadn’t dragged us out of the house at eight in the morning. I arrived in from patrol at three.” He hadn’t had coffee in hours, and the weight of his tired body pressed on him like a panini maker.

Dick ignored them. “Jason can take the one at the loading docks, and Tim you’ll be able to bypass security and get into the back the easiest.”

“Sounds good to me,” grunted Jason.

“Alright,” agreed Tim. “The second any of us spots them, text the group chat, will box them in from there.”

They nodded and headed off their separate ways. Despite the tiredness in Tim's bones, there was a heady rush of the hunt thrumming in his veins. Damian, and whoever he had decided to pair up with, _were going down_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me at [batsandbugs](https://batsandbugs.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


	5. Vents and Keurigs

Television shows made navigating through vents appear much easier than it was in real life. Then again, they also made being a superhero look easy too, and Marinette was painfully aware of how that was false. Her knees and back ached from crawling through the low ceiling vents, and though she wasn’t claustrophobic, she was decidedly cramped. And if that’s how she felt, Damian, at more than half a foot taller, had to be doubly suffering. She asked how he was doing.

“I've crawled through far more pleasant vents before,” he replied seriously. “If we could continue quickly, we’ll come out near another vent gate in about ten or so minutes.”

They continued in silence until they came to a fork in the vent.

“Which way?” asked Marinette.

Damian hesitated. “I didn’t see this on the plans.”

“So, you don’t know.” 

“I did not say that.”

“So which way do we go?”

Silence.

Marinette sighed and closed her eyes, poking for the pooled energy inside herself. Being the Guardian of the Miraculous had helped her innate magic to grow in leaps and bounds, but it was her Ladybug powers she ultimately searched for. After being bonded with Tikki for so long, certain… qualities tended to bleed over. One such ability was making decisions infused with good luck. It wasn’t easy, but it was one she had been working hard to master. 

A glimmer of magic burned in her chest, and a fleeting whispered voice told her to turn left. She smiled in the dark of the vent.

“Left,” she said confidently, “we go left.”

“Why?”

Marinette’s smile turned into a smirk, even though Damian couldn’t see her. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to try.” The quickness made the reply appear casual, but Marinette could tell by the steel in his tone it told more truth than intended.

 _‘Who the hell did I team up with?’_ her brain once again asked.

“Let’s leave me off the list,” she said, bypassing the dangerous remark with a gymnast's grace. “Come on.”

She crawled around the corner and, after only a moment’s hesitation, heard Damian follow after her.

Silence reigned for another minute or so before far in the distance they spotted light.

“Oh, thank the Kwamis, an exit,” Marinette muttered.

Damian grumbled behind her. “None of this appeared on the plans.”

“Learn to roll with the flow.” The light grew stronger, so she flicked off her phone flashlight. “Chances are it didn’t take your brothers too long to track me back to our hiding spot. They probably know we’re in the vents. If they found the same plan you did…”

“They won’t have any clue about this.” She could hear the pleased smirk in his voice.

“Exactly.”

The light flooded upwards from the vent floor. The slats in between large enough to view the room below. Marinette crawled over it and maneuvered herself around to face Damian.

“Nice to see your face again.”

The dim light from the vent illuminated his face. “N-Nice to see yours too,” he said. It was at that point, it dawned on Marinette that Damian's view the whole way through the vent was an up-close look at her butt. From the heat radiating off her cheeks, it was likely her face was as red as his. She was torn between laughing hysterically and curling into a mortified ball and never emerging.

Instead of either of those rational actions though, her mouth, her stupid, _stupid_ mouth, decided to betray her.

“Enjoy the view?” she asked with a grin. '' _What are you doing?'_ She yelled at herself, that was the last thing she wanted to utter.

Damian, if it was even possible, turned redder, and coughed lightly. “You have, uh, your bottom is quite shapely.” By the end of his confession, his voice was a high-pitched squeak, more appropriate for a preteen, then an adult. It took every bit of self-control for Marinette to keep from falling apart laughing.

“Thanks, I exercise,” she responded cheekily. A familiar magical hum settled in her breastbone. Her connection to the Kwamis magic. Marinette held back from rolling her eyes, even as her inner panic grew. One of the Kwamis was helping her to flirt. Probably Plagg judging by her cheesy replies.

_‘They are the physical embodiments of the powers of the universe, and they choose to help me flirt. What even is my life?’_

“It's working well,” replied Damian, with more of a teasing tone than an embarrassed one, although his cheeks still appeared redder than normal.

“Yeah, well…” Marinette sat there struggling for a reply when noise from below cut off their impromptu flir- _teasing_ session.

“I swear to God, if I find out who caused the mess in the Market Hall, I'll strangle them with my bare hands,” complained a voice from below.

Marinette winced when she saw Damian looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t meant to cause that _much_ damage.

“Oh, come on, Ian, it’s not like it was unscrewed on purpose. A bolt probably loosened and the shelf got bumped into. Blame it on bad luck.”

“Well, can I strangle bad luck then?”

Marinette held back an undainty snort. Plagg's constant whining and complaining came to mind. _‘There I certain days I definitely want to.’_

“I don’t think so. I’m more worried about the giant cart pile up.” At that, Damian raised a second eyebrow, and Marinette shrugged, she didn't control what the Bad Luck Balls did. “We’re gonna need to test all the carts to check for any more loose wheels, that’s gonna take forever. Anyway, are you headed home?”

“Yeah, I’m half an hour over the end of my shift,” responded Ian. Marinette could see two people moving around in the room below. “Ooh look, someone brought in doughnuts! You want one Casey?”

“No thanks, still trying to stay on that diet. I just came in here for a drink and then I’m back out on the floor.” The sound of a fridge door opened. “See you next week.”

“Yeah, you too Casey.”

The sound of another door opened leaving the room below silent once more.

“Shopping carts?” Damian asked, half-amused, and half bewildered. “I didn’t hear about that.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Escape was the highest priority, okay?” 

“When would you find the time to accomplish that?”

Marinette hesitated, there was no good explanation to give that would satisfy him. She wouldn’t tell him about the Miraculous or the Kwamis. It was her job, no her duty, to maintain their safety, and after everything she had fought for, bled for, nearly _died_ for... no matter how comfortable he made her, there was no way he'd learn about what she could do. Especially when she had the feeling he was far more than meets the eye. Which didn’t leave much in the way of a good excuse for what she did and how.

Then, as if understanding Marinette’s great need for a distraction, their stomachs rumbled in unison. They looked at each other for a moment before laughing.

Marinette huffed, wiping away a tear of joy from her eye. “Okay, we need to find food to eat.”

Damian nodded. “The food court is a no go now; Drake will monitor it even more closely than before. We could find a vending machine?”

An idea popped into Marinette’s mind. “Or… how about the doughnuts?”

“Huh?”

She pointed down. “This is the breakroom. Ian mentioned doughnuts.”

“That would be stealing.”

“As opposed to the twenty other things we’ve stolen over the course of the past two hours?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I can back pay those.”

“So, we’ll send them a box of doughnuts once we’ve won. I’m sure the IKEA employees will understand the doughnut's sacrifice to a worthy cause. Besides, breakrooms have coffee machines.”

Damian sneered. “Coffee from a machine will taste will taste like swill.”

“Didn't you say your brother dragged you out of bed at eight this morning? Coffee means caffeine, which means energy.”

He tilted his head and contemplated it for a moment. “Fair point.” He looked at the grate. “It’s probably a ten-foot drop. Can you handle that?”

Marinette had to refrain from rolling her eyes. She had free fallen off the Eiffel Tower before, she could handle a measly ten-foot drop. But Damian wasn't aware of any of that of course. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the laser pen. “Back up, it’s going to get hot in here.”

Marinette averted her eyes while Damian cut the grate away with the laser, the heat making the metal vent shaft turn into a furnace. She wiped away at a bead of sweat forming at her brow. The grate gave way and clattered against the floor below. Damian put away the laser and gave her a quick smirk. He slipped his legs into the hole where the grate had been and jumped to the floor, landing with a soft thud.

Breathing a sigh of relief at finally leaving the cramped vent, Marinette maneuvered her legs to dangle over the vent opening and slid out, bracing herself for the landing.

But instead of meeting the floor, she found herself caught in mid-air. Damian had her in his grasp, holding her off the floor by a few inches with his strong arms snug around her waist. Their eyes caught and the air between them grew thick with tension. His bare hands brushed against a sliver of her exposed back, the contact sent shivers up her spine.

Neither of them breathed for a brief moment.

“I told you I could handle the drop,” Marinette said, her words barely above a whisper.

“I know.” Damian’s voice matched hers. The look in his eyes impossible to decipher. His arms tightened for a moment, before letting her slip-free.

Marinette smiled, resting her hands against his arms. “Thanks.”

Damian opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. He stepped back, effectively breaking the bubble around them. Marinette pushed the rapid flutter in her chest away. She could deal with it later when she was far removed from crazy games of hide-and-seek, and dark-skinned boys who made her too comfortable to be safe.

She turned and looked around the room they had dropped into, finding it, thankfully, empty. The last thing they needed was security getting called on them. Spotting the counter with the box of doughnuts on it, Marinette smiled.

She walked over to the box. “Well, it’s no Parisian artisan pastries, but I suppose the chain-restaurant _swill_ will suffice,” she teased, looking back over her shoulder at Damian. 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he deadpanned, heading over to the coffee machine to start a new pot. She turned her attention back to the box, the words Krispy Kreme printed on the front in large green letters, several doughnuts still inside.

“Which one do you want?” she asked.

“Anything with chocolate.”

“You have excellent taste.”

“I strive too.” That made Marinette smile. It was such a Chole-like response. She had to make sure _never_ to introduce the two of them.

Marinette pulled out a few doughnuts and put them in the microwave. They would taste much better warm. After a few seconds, she brought the plate over to Damian staring at the ancient coffee machine with distaste.

“Here, you take this.” She pushed the plate of warm doughnuts into his hands. “And I’ll deal with this.” Grabbing a filter to place the pre-crushed coffee grounds into.

“Tt, why don’t they use a Keurig?” he asked with a sneer.

“Uh… because it’s a breakroom in an IKEA?” Marinette was shocked to find a breakroom at all. She’d figured employees would have to lean against the wall if they wanted a break, before being prodded into moving again by their superior. At least, she thought that was what Americans did.

Damian scoffed. “Everyone uses Keurig.”

“Even you, Mr. Machine coffee tastes like swill?”

“No, Alfred makes our coffee in the morning French press style. I do occasionally steal Drake’s Keurig out of his room when he hasn’t slept in four days to watch him cry though.”

“Damian!” she exclaimed.

“What? It’s for his own good. At that point he’s more likely to make a mistake, he needs sleep, not more caffeine.”

Marinette's thoughts flickered to her own Keurig she bought before she left Paris and the number of times she had played out the exact scenario Damian described. “Coffee is a lifestyle.” She grabbed two paper cups and placed one underneath the machine as the coffee dripped.

“It’s a crutch. Drake is a grown man, and he should, mlph-” Marinette cut him off by shoving a chocolate doughnut into his mouth. He glared at her.

“Getting between a determined person and their coffee is a criminal offense and should be punished.” She grabbed a doughnut for herself taking a bite of the sugary pastry. It tasted nothing like her parents’, but her empty stomach didn't care, so it would do. “Who’s Alfred by the way? Another brother?”

Damian took half the doughnut out of his mouth, swallowing the rest. “Most people wouldn’t dare to take the liberties you do with me.”

“Good thing I’m not most people,” Marinette responded with a smile. “You’re avoiding the question.” She took the cup out, now full to the brim of steaming hot coffee, and replaced it with the second.

“No, fortunately, I have no more brothers. Although my father likes to pick up strays so who knows if we’ll obtain another. Alfred is our butler.”

Thankfully, Marinette hadn’t taken a sip of coffee otherwise she might have done a spit-take. “You have a butler?” She had gotten the impression his family was pretty rich, and she was used to her friends having personal staff, but never failed to shock her when this level of luxury was mentioned so casually.

Damian shrugged. “Tt, butler, pseudo-grandfather, the only reason our family functions even semi-normally; same difference.”

Marinette shook her head in exasperation. “If you say so.” She pulled out the second cup, handing it to Damian. He took a sip.

“If mediocre had a taste…”

“Oh, shut up and drink it.”

They devoured their meager rations in silence, going back for seconds on both doughnuts and coffee. Marinette was by no means full when she finished, but at least her stomach wasn’t threatening to eat itself anymore.

“So, where do we go from here?” she asked.

Damian pulled out his phone. “The store closes at nine, which means we either have to avoid my brothers for eight more hours, or…”

“We have to knock them out of the game completely.”

“Exactly.”

“So, are we gonna actually knock them out, or should we just get them kicked out of the store?” She would normally try to avoid the use of excessive force on civilians, but from the few hints Damian had dropped, Marinette figured his family was used to a higher level of insanity. Living in Gotham must have that effect.

“Effective and vicious,” commented Damian, “I like the way you think. As much fun as it would be to knock them out, getting them kicked out is probably the better method. We have… family plans for this evening that potential concussions would make difficult.”

“Who’s our first target?”

“Drake,” said Damian without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s their eyes and ears. The other two are still good at hacking, but he’s the best. Get rid of him, and Grayson and Todd will be scrambling to recover. Plus, he’s the least likely to put up a fight.”

With a plan made, they erased their presence from the breakroom, hiding the lasered off vent grate and discarding their trash. Once confident the coast was clear they snuck out of the breakroom, and into the bowels of the back hallways, leaving nothing but doughnut crumbs and the smell of coffee in their wake.

It was time for the hunters to become the prey.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me at [batsandbugs](https://batsandbugs.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
> Okay, that's the last of the old chapters! A new one should be out in a few days! 
> 
> I know a lot of you were asking for this story to get uploaded here, so I hope you enjoy it. And for those of you who are first-time readers, hi, welcome to the chaos train. I love to hear everyone's comments, it inspires me!


	6. Let There Be Light... and fire!

“How will we find them?” Marinette asked as they made their way through the back hallways of the store. It was a little disconcerting no one tried to stop them, but besides from a harried man wearing a blue vest dragging around an industrial-sized banana, and a teen girl with vibrant pink hair who looked like she hadn’t slept in two days, they hadn’t run into anybody.

“Oh, I know where Drake is,” replied Damian, who had his head bent looking at his phone, but for some reason was able to make a series of turns without running into a single wall. “Just trust me.”

Eventually, they came to the end of the hall. The transition from dingy carpet to concrete, a box of vests and hats, and a sign above that read: **“CAUTION! DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT SAFETY GEAR!”** made it astoundingly clear they were about to enter a public workspace. An electronic door with a key code blocked their way. Through the door’s screen glass window, they could see a giant warehouse filled floor to ceiling with metal shelves. Boxes piled on shelves, just like the customer warehouse section at the front of the store was. Marinette remembered the website boasting this IKEA was the distribution plant for the mid-northeast. The whole back wall was filled with giant shutter doors, big enough that semi-trucks could be loaded and unloaded. A group of about ten workers unloaded boxes off a truck.

“What now?” Marinette asked.

“My brothers, without a doubt, followed you back to our hiding spot, and they pulled up the same blueprints we did for the vent system.” He handed his phone to her. “Now if you’ll note, there are three locations where those vents end.”

“Which means they most likely split up.” It made sense it was what she would do if she tried to trap someone.

“Three locations: two in the back and one in public. Here in the distribution plant near the security office, one near the loading docks, and one near the children’s daycare center. Grayson took the front, Drake the back-door entrance, and Todd the back lot,” said Damian with a look of confidence that brokered no argument. Marinette was curious as to how he came to his conclusion but figured Damian knew his brothers well enough to reason out their strategy.

“Drake will watch the camera feed, so we need to stay out of the line of sight otherwise he’ll know we’re no longer in the vents.”

“If he’s in the back, he’ll also stay out of the sight of the cameras too. So, no one in the security room will see he’s out of bounds.”

Damian nodded. “He’ll be working in a limited range, watching the vent. We’ll be working in an even smaller one.” He tapped on another tab on his phone and showed her the screen, it cycled between all of the cameras for the distribution center. “Here, you familiarize yourself with this, while I disable the lock on the door.”

Marinette wondered for a second how he gained access to the footage but considering his brothers tracked their younger sibling’s credit card, it wasn’t unreasonable to think they were all good with technology. She watched the screen noting the exits and entrances and possible places to hide from the camera’s immediate reach. The vent entrance they were supposed to come out of was barely on camera, just a sliver, she figured Tim would be in that area. She noticed the cameras were all pointing down to the warehouse floor but not upwards.

A small unlocking noise filled the air. “Let’s go,” Damian said, placing a small metallic-looking device back into his pocket, the door pad lit green and he pushed it open.

“Wait,” she replied. Marinette grabbed two vests and hats from the box and handed a set to him. He raised an eyebrow in question, and she shrugged

“If we’re spotted, we’ll at least vaguely look like we belong.”

“That’s fair,” he said. They got into the vests and Marinette readjusted her hair so the helmet would fit on her head. She handed Damian back his phone, and they crept out onto the metallic landing above the work floor.

Leaving the quiet hallway into the echoey warehouse was a jarring shift. The beeping of machines, the chattering of people, even the large booms of boxes hitting the ground all collected into a symphony of noise and distraction. No one would ever have picked out the sound of two sets of footsteps against metal cautiously crossing above them.

The landing they stepped out onto led down to a set of stairs onto the floor proper, but it also connected to a series of catwalks. Currently, thankfully, empty. Marinette felt a rush of excitement run through her. She hadn’t done proper sneaking in so _long_. She missed the thrill of it.

“The vent is at the east-back of the warehouse, over by the main offices and intake channels,” whispered Damian, barely audible over the cacophonous din of the space.

They made their way around the walks taking caution to avoid the cameras, but at a certain point, they couldn’t reach any closer to their destination without being in their view. The vent was still fifty feet away. Damian poked her shoulder and pointed to a stretch of wall. It was mostly in shadow due to the hanging light above it being out. Marinette could see the soft flickers of a mis-screwed bulb, and in the brief flashes of light, she saw a figure leaned up against the wall.

Crouching on the walkway to reduce the chance of someone noticing their stall, they began to take stock of their position.

“We need to get him out in the open,” said Marinette, her eyes moving rapidly around the room. Without Tikki, devising off the cuff plans infused with luck wasn’t perfect, but after years of practice, she discovered the ability bled over a bit into her civilian form.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tub of industrial-strength quick dry glue, and the gears in her mind began to turn.

“But we can’t let him see us!” Damian hissed. “If he knows we’re here he’ll text the others.”

Marinette’s mind froze. “Wait. They have a group chat?”

Damian shrugged. “Well, technically I’m on it too. It’s how I knew I was the last one waiting to be found.”

“Then how do we know they’re not tracking your phone!?”

Damian shook his head. “Against the rules. We’re allowed to use our tech to hack public resources, not our own.”

“So, the credit card?”

“The bank is technically public.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose with a restrained sigh, a growing tension built behind her eyes. “Okay, okay, let me think.” She inched over to the edge of the catwalk. Her eyes flittered over the work floor, landing on a pile of loosely stacked wood pallets, then over to the broken light hanging above the spot where Tim was hiding, then she looked at the ceiling.

She smiled. 

A plan forming in her mind, Marinette asked, “He’ll move if he thinks he’s in danger of being spotted, right?”

Damian nodded slowly. “What are you thinking?”

“What kind of shoes does he wear?”

Damian blinked, pausing for a moment, before saying, “Laced up combat boots.”

Marinette smirked. “Perfect. Have you ever watched the Home Alone movies before?”

Damian snarled his nose, but shrunk in a bit, as if embarrassed. “They’re banned in our house.”

“Why?” asked Marinette, slightly afraid of the answer.

“According to certain parties, movies which encourage the use of “extreme violence” in handling petty criminals are unsuitable for bored vi-young adults with technical know-how.” A small smirk crept onto his face and his vibrant green eyes flickered to hers. “I ignored the ban and watched it at an… acquaintance’s house instead.”

Marinette laughed at Damian’s self-satisfaction. “Okay, we'll need perfect timing for this to work then. How do you feel about setting a tiny, _controlled,_ fire?” 

Damian’s smirk grew wider. “Go on.”

* * *

“It’s like monkey bars,” she whispered, trying to convince herself. “Giant, freaking, monkey bars.”

It wasn’t like monkey bars. It was _nothing_ like monkey bars.

No, this was crawling along a metal I-beam thirty feet up in the air trying to stay out of the reach of security cameras to screw in a lightbulb. This was the best her magically enhanced brain could come up with.

“You defeated a supervillain with nothing more than luck and rope. You’ve-” her hand slipped on the metal causing her to stop as she righted herself. “You have run across rooftops and hung above giants vats of boiling food. This will not be the end of you,” said Marinette, berating herself. To be fair, Damian heard the plan and thought it was perfect, so this idiocy could have lain on his shoulders too. He got the easy part though.

Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, and all that rot.

Now it wasn’t as if Marinette was scared of heights. One too many involuntary trips off the Eiffel Tower cured that fear in startlingly quick fashion. Normally though. she had the protection of an ancient deity and an unbreakable never-ending rope at her side. Right now, she was just a slightly more durable human risking life and limb for a game. If she fell, that was it.

Damian did raise that concern when she explained the plan, insisting he go and screw in the light bulb, but Marinette knew she could do it, and it was the likeliest part of the plan where Tim could spot them. They couldn’t risk it. So here she was while Damian waited below implementing the second part of their devious scheme.

Despite all the risk involved, Marinette still thought this was the most fun she’d had in _weeks._

Finally, she reached the spot above the flickering lamp, her hands sweated from the tight grip she had on the metal. Now came the hard part. She untied a length of rope from her belt. She’d found it on her way to climb a small ladder up to the very top of the warehouse where the exposed metal beams crisscrossed the ceiling. After all, some insurance was better than none.

Attaching the rope securely around her waist and the other end to the metal beam, she swung her legs around so they could grip the beam and she could lean back and hang upside down, next to the lamp. The blood rushed past her ears and into her head, her hair flipped over, and she became distinctly aware of just how _high_ up she was.

“The tower was taller,” she muttered. “The tower was taller.”

Now, with her hands unimpeded, she was free to mess with the lamp. The flickering light she noticed from down on the catwalk indicated power, but a loose connection. Feeling with her hands, as she wasn’t far down enough to see into the lamp, she grasped the bulb and tried to turn it.

It wouldn’t budge.

“Fuck,” she muttered. Marinette tried again, this time using a little more strength, but still, it wouldn’t move.

Damn. If this didn’t work, Marinette didn’t know what they would do. Their (her) entire crazy plan involved lighting this area up so Tim would move.

Breathing heavily, dizzy from the pooling blood in her head, she twisted again harder. Pushing as much of her body into it as she could. One of her legs started to slip from the beam, but just when she thought she would fall, the bulb budged and turned to the right. The flicker became a flood.

“Let there be light,” she muttered. Her hands flew back to the beam, stabilizing her slipping legs and she did a weird half sit up and pulled herself upright. The blood rushed back down causing black dots to appear in her vision and the world seemed to tilt, but she held tight onto the beam. Once the momentary wooziness passed, she straightened herself out and untied herself.

“Alright, Damian, up to you now.” She crawled back across the beam to the access point.

The plan, despite its potential dangers, was rather simple.

Marinette would head up and fix the light. (Check) Meanwhile, Damian, wearing the fake glasses, helmet, and vest would pour quick dry glue in the only other spot that would be out of the security camera’s range, semi-dark once the light was fixed, and still able to view the vent.

The glue was the key to all of this. The substance was not only quick-dry but _highly flammable._ So, Damian would pour a thin circle around the spot where Tim would stand and a line away from it, like a trail of gunpowder, and wait until Marinette gave the signal. Then he would light the trail. This of course all being away from anything else flammable. Tim would be stuck to the floor surrounded by a ring of fire.

She only had two concerns with the plan; would Tim get hurt, and how much trouble could he get into? Damian reassured her Tim was the one that got them _out_ of trouble most of the time. He would charm (and potentially bribe) his way out and no lasting consequences would occur. Further, he and his siblings were all trained in case of an emergency (a common occurrence in Gotham), so it wasn’t like his brother would panic.

Granted he said that with a devious gleam in his eye, which spoke of sibling retribution. Marinette wasn’t about to get in the way of that and trusted Damian knew Tim well enough that he wouldn’t be harmed. 

Marinette, after fixing the light, would make her way back down to the work floor, and position herself behind the pile of loosely stacked wood pallets. Once Damian lit the fire, she would tip over the pallets attracting the attention of a ton of workers, and the office manager. Damian would immediately hide after setting the fire, while Tim would be stuck to the ground. Once the fire was put out and Tim apprehended, she and Damian would meet on the catwalks, where there was rooftop access. They would be out of the line of sight, and if anyone looked through the footage, they would see nothing more than two workers in vests and hats. 

If it hadn’t been for the death-defying stunt, Marinette would have called it one of her better thought-out plans.

It took her less time to get down than the initial climb. She grabbed her abandoned helmet, and a clipboard filled with random paper. Looking official meant less chance of people talking to her, and less chance of being discovered. Making her way down the steps onto the work floor, she strode across to an empty station and pretended to look busy. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Damian hidden in his spot to set the fire.

Walking over to the pallet stack with a straight face was harder than she thought it would be. She noticed Tim abandoned his previous spot and moved exactly where they wanted him. A small ball of tension built in her stomach. This is where everything could go wrong. The fire could not light properly, or she could get caught, or Damian could get caught, or they could light something else on fire, or they could set off the sprinkler system and everyone had to evacuate.

Before she knew it, Marinette stood in front of the pallets. She sent a text to Damian (they’d exchanged numbers while hashing out the details of the plan), a simple ‘go’ and a second later, saw the flicker of flames rushing along the floor. Without hesitating, she leaned against the pallet stack with both hands and watched as it tumbled down.

The clatter rang through the warehouse, at the same time as a huge column of flames rose up into the air. 

Marinette froze her eyes affixed on the burning inferno.

Well… that ended up larger than anticipated.

Seems they didn’t need the knocked over wood pallets after all.

Moving mostly on instinct, she ducked behind a shelving unit, watching as a ton of workers ran over to the fire. The doors to the offices slammed open, and several people in suits and a few security guards rushed out. Marinette waited until the crowd was large enough, before slipping back in to see what happened next.

Despite, the initial large burst the fire died down very quickly. Thankfully, it didn’t set off the fire alarm, and after someone grabbed a fire extinguisher and sprayed out the rest of the flames, all evidence was gone.

Well, besides for one very confused Tim Drake.

He stood in the middle of the foamed circle; his boots still stuck to the ground. His clothes were unharmed, but from a distance, she could see the ends of his hair whisp with smoke.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOIN’ ON HERE?” yelled a large rotund man in a safety vest and worker's hat. Marinette watched as his eyes zeroed in on Tim. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, PUNK? WHAT DID YOU DO IN MY WAREHOUSE?”

Tim blinked for a second before finally realizing the man was talking to him. “N-No, me? I- I didn’t do anything. The fire just came out of nowhere.”

“You think you can just pop back here and set fire to whatever you please? Does anyone recognize him?” A chorus of negative answers erupted from the gathered crowd. If possible, the man’s face grew even redder. “You a customer? WHAT THE HELL IS A CUSTOMER DOING SETTING FIRE TO MY STORE?”

A man in a suit walked over and cautiously placed a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Jerry, calm down, we’ll have security sort this out.” Jerry rounded on the other man and glared.

“No! I’ll take care of this punk myself.” He walked right over to Tim and roughly grabbed his arm. At this point, the crowd had doubled in size and Marinette had to push her way through to watch. Jerry tugged Tim to move him, but unfortunately, his shoes were still stuck to the ground. Jerry tugged again, and the crowd realized what was happening and started laughing.

“AH, SHUT UP!” Jerry yelled. He leaned in real close to Tim, who’ been protesting the whole time to no avail. “Unlace your shoes, boy. We’re gonna have a good chat, just you wait until your father hears about this.”

“I’m almost twenty, my dad isn’t in charge of me.”

The shark-like grin Jerry made, caused Marinette to sympathize with whoever had to deal with the man on a normal basis. “Great, I’ll get the police to deal with you then.”

Tim, apparently a creature with no fear, (seriously who were these brothers?) laughed in Jerry’s face. “I’d love to see that happen. Seriously, go ahead.”

The man’s red face turned burgundy, and Marinette was fairly certain Jerry was about to explode. Without saying another word, he pointed down at Tim’s shoes. Tim shrugged, and quickly untied his laces.

“I’m telling you; this wasn’t me. I’ve been framed,” Tim said, completely calm. His eyes scanned the crowd probably looking for his brother. Marinette swiftly moved behind a taller person to avoid being seen.

“HA! Likely story you little punk.” Once the last of the laces had been untied and Tim stepped out of his shoes, Jerry once again grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the offices. The group of men in suits looked vaguely resigned to the occurring series of events and followed close behind with a few security guards.

“WHAT ARE YOU STANDING AROUND GAWKING AT, HUH?” Jerry yelled to the crowd of assembled workers. “YOU'RE ON THE CLOCK! GET BACK TO WORK!” He pushed his way through the crowd, which parted quickly out of the way. Marinette saw them coming her way, and almost shuffled to the side to avert being seen.

But at the last second, a thought occurred to her and she moved closer to the pair, bumping into the edge of Tim’s shoulder. She moved quickly, with years of practiced skill, then faked a stumble.

“Sorry,” she mumbled when Jerry glared at her. She moved further back into the crowd, clutching her prize in hand. She allowed herself to smirk a little; Tim hadn’t even looked at her. 

Moving with the crowd, still chattering about the fire and showdown they’d seen, she diverted off when they’d moved far enough from the sight of the fire. Walking along the catwalks to the rooftop access door, she found Damian nowhere to be seen.

She only had a moment to panic, before he dropped down from an I-beam, landing on the metallic grating with a low clang.

“Why were you up there?”

He glared. “Why were you _late?_ ”

“I watched the aftermath. Weren’t you concerned about your brother? The fire ended up larger than expected.”

Damian shrugged, “Tt. I could see him, he was fine. Barely even singed. You could have risked the whole plan by lingering and gawking. Now we’re behind, and it’s likely he’s already warned Todd and Grayson.”

Marinette smirked, “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

“Why?” he asked in angry confusion. “It’s what I would do.”

She pulled a sleek grey phone out of her pocket. “It’s kinda hard to text people when you don’t have a phone.”

Damian looked at the stolen object in obvious shock. He blinked once, then twice. “You stole his phone.”

“I stole his phone,” she repeated with a pleased grin.

Damian’s cheeks grew red, and he coughed. “Well- um… that’s good and um… yeah, just, _great.”_

“Less mad now.” Marinette teased.

Damian turned back to the rooftop access door. “Yeah, whatever. You’ve bought us a little time, but that doesn’t mean we have the luxury to linger.” He pulled out the little metallic device again, and within seconds the door pad lit green. “Let’s go.” He pushed open the door and stepped into the sun.

Marinette followed, eager to continue. _‘One brother down, two to go.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I promised one would be out soon! It was a beast to get finished, but I'm glad it's done. Tim was always going to be the most complicated capture. Not that Jason and Dick's won't be as much fun (boy am I really looking forward to Dick's) but this needed to be big and epic! Not a whole ton of Daminette interaction, but we'll have more of that in coming chapters! Your comments have been so nice and kind, you guys are the absolute best. I'll see ya whenever I have a new chapter!


	7. The Liars' Waltz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General Warning: Jason swears. A lot. He calls both Damian and Marinette some mean names, and they play on some of his fears. Nothing too explicit, but a little bit darker than everything else, so I thought it deserved a preface. Enjoy!

The light of day was a welcome change to the artificial lights of the building. Although what captured Marinette’s attention first was the dramatic decrease in sound. High above on the roof, only the faint wisps of cars and people could be heard. Mostly it was just a low humming noise from a nearby air conditioner and the whistling wind.

Marinette stood in a sunlight patch, turning her face to the sky, letting the warm rays hit her skin. She closed her eyes and sighed. Still full from the doughnuts and coffee, running on the adrenaline high of their first successful elimination, the warm sun was like a cherry on top.

Damian cleared his throat.

Marinette opened her eyes, biting her lip. “Sorry, feels nice to be outside.”

Damian shrugged. “That’s fine, your actions mirrored someone I know.” He turned his head away looking across the roof for where to go next. This granted Marinette a pleasant view of his side profile.

 _‘Damn that jawline could cut glass,’_ piped a little voice in her head. She waved it away, now was not the time for those thoughts. “Who?” she asked.

He startled, turning back with a sheepish expression. “My… cat. Pennyworth. He likes to stretch in the sun, as you just did.” 

She paused; did he just compare her to a cat?? It took a moment before the statement's hilarity hit her and she started to laugh. It took over completely, bending her at the stomach forcing her to close her eyes, she gasped for breaths between bursts of laughter. 

“Sorry, _sorry,”_ he grumbled, his cheeks a flustered red. “I will refrain from comparing your actions to an animal again, but I don’t see what you find so funny.”

“No,” she wheezed. “No, that’s not the problem.” Just the thought of being compared to a _cat_ was hilarious. Plagg would never let her live it down. Tikki had the same love of bathing in sunspots, but to a cat owner, yes, she must have looked exactly like one. “I’m sorry, I’m not-” she took a big breath finally subsuming the laughter. She placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I’m not laughing _at_ you. It’s an exceptionally long story as to why I find the comparison funny.”

Damian’s cheeks were still red, but he looked less offended now. “Perhaps you can tell me another time, we are still on the clock after all.”

The warning of their limited time finally drove away the last of her giggles. “You’re right, you’re right. Sorry. I’ve derailed us. Another time.” She was pleased, that, even after making a fool of herself Damian still maybe wanted to know her when they were finished with this crazy hide and seek game. 

Crossing the roof to the back edge they peered over. Down below they could semi-trucks parked around haphazardly and workers unloading and offloading boxes. Off to one side of the backlot, a shipping container maze covered a good amount of space. A few were scattered around, open to the workers pulling material off them, but the rest waited, untouched and unbothered. The lot, compared to the warehouse, had far fewer people working, but it was open, with fewer places to hide.

“Even with Drake’s phone gone, Todd will be aware of the fire before too long. Word of the incident will spread quickly,” commented Damian, pulling out his phone and tapping on another app. It zoomed in on the area below. “Unfortunately, I am banned from using the trackers I placed on my brothers. Against the rules.” 

“You have trackers on your brothers?” It fit with everything she knew about him, but the absurdity of his statements blindsided her at times. What kind of world did he come from where _tracking_ people was normal?

“Sure, I put trackers on everyone,” said Damian, focused on panning the phone across the work lot, searching for his brother.

Marinette blinked, realizing the totality of his statement. “Including me?”

He froze. “Would you be mad if I said yes?”

She wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this. “Damian, do I have a tracker on me?”

He shifted back and forth on his feet, but his face remained impassive. “I can remove the tracker?”

“Do the trackers help?” She wasn’t sure if she meant for practical purposes or for his own peace of mind. Maybe, if she was honest, he used it for a little bit of both. 

“Yes, it has proven useful on occasion.”

She shrugged her shoulders, suppressing a smile. “Then the tracker can stay.”

The tension in Damian’s shoulder’s dropped, but before he could say anything else, his phone dinged. On the screen was an image of Jason, leaned up against the back wall of the building. He stood right next to the vent, gazing off into the distance. She and Damian dropped to the ground of the roof, it wasn’t likely he would spot them from all the way up here, but there was no reason to take the chance.

“So, we know where he is, do you have any ideas on how to eliminate him?” asked Marinette. “Because if you hadn’t noticed, I kinda did all the planning last time.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “Yes, I am aware. Last time we utilized Drake’s own advantages against him. We knew he wanted to stay out of sight of the cameras and had the means of accessing them. And, despite all his sophisticated skill-” he paused, his eyes widening, then he snarled his nose. “Not that I would ever admit to that skill, and you heard nothing of the sort,” he backtracked, pointing at her.

She raised a hand to her lips pretending to zipper and lock them. “He’ll hear nothing from me.”

Damian nodded. “Regardless, he was certain their plan was foolproof and therefore was not anticipating retaliation. Todd, on the other hand, is a paranoid bastard. Here, observe.” He raised himself above the edge of the building, pointing his phone at Jason. “It appears as if he is daydreaming, but in actuality-”

“He’s categorizing weak spots in the area and is in the best possible position to chase us if we were to appear or fight in case something comes after him.” She whistled low. “Impressive.”

“Tt.” Damian scowled, turning off the phone, stuffing it back into his pocket. “It’s not _that_ impressive. We’re all paranoid bastards trained to analyze situations to utilize them for our advantage. He’s objectively the worse at it. I could do better.”

She patted his shoulder consolingly. “I’m sure you could, but right now he,” she gestured in Jason’s direction. “Is the paranoid bastard we have to take down, so how do we do that?”

“Well, Todd is impulsive, reckless, emotional, prone to jumping to conclusions, and entirely too trigger happy. Confronting him openly is risky. Having him found and kicked out is the best viable option. However, he won’t stay still like Tim did, and will certainly put up much more of a fuss.”

“So…” she tried thinking of options. “How about tying him up?”

Damian tilted his head back and forth, weighing the idea. “He will claim it was done by someone else or break out before security even reaches him.”

She shook her head, “No, we need them to think he was tied up for a reason. We framed Tim for the fire, or at least we put him in the general proximity of the fire. What if we frame Jason for something else?”

“Like stealing? Todd does have a history of it.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Damian we’re both wearing stolen clothes, and I pickpocketed Tim’s phone.”

He waved it off. “I never said we were _innocent_. Just if the police are called, they would believe it of him. Not that it would come to that. Todd would escape custody before going ten feet near a police car.”

“Alright, but we still have the problem of actually trapping him.”

Damian sighed, staying silent, but Marinette could tell he was furiously thinking, trying to devise a plan. She too kept silent, running through different scenarios and discarding each one; ones for being too complicated, others for not being likely to work. They both sat there, minutes passing, each second feeling like a wasted eternity, and then Damian finally gasped.

“I… have an idea,” he said with hesitation.

“Great!”

“It’s complicated.”

She scoffed, “Do you not remember what we just pulled off with Tim ten minutes ago. Complicated isn’t a problem for us.”

“It’ll require acting on your part.”

Marinette shrugged, “I can do that.” If she could fool her parents and classmates for years about being a superhero, tricking one person, paranoid or not, would be a cinch.

“Todd will kill me for even suggesting this. It not only plays off his weaknesses but his fears,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. Then he looked directly at her, his green eyes piercing, holding her in place “Are you okay with that?”

“Will it hurt him?”

“Physically, no. Emotionally, yes, probably.”

Marinette wafted back and forth. Being mean wasn't a good thing. Multiple years of bullying in high school drove her to strive for kindness whenever possible, but this was… this was _different_. This was a game, a competition. Obviously, Damian and his brothers played by a harsher set of rules than the average person. Damian even described them as being, _'a combination of street orphans, circus brats, gymnastics freaks, and geniuses’_. They were trained (seriously, who _trains_ their children???), which indicated they should be able to hold up even under more… _problematic_ circumstances. 

“Will it work?”

Damian breathed in sharply. “Yes,” he said, nodding confidently.

Marinette smirked, remembering Damian’s words from a few hours ago. “Well, winning trumps everything but murder today. I’m in.”

Damian paused, his eyes widening. His lips twitched, then stretched into the biggest grin Marinette had seen from him. He raised a hand to cover his eyes and laughed. It was a deep, warm sound, coming straight from his chest. In the brief time she’d known him, Damian appeared to be snarky, harsh, and at times, a bit feral. Laughter, or even a genuine smile, was not something she would assume was normal for him. But caught up like this, relaxed and happy, it was a good look for him.

Marinette ruthlessly squashed down the small part of her wanting to be the reason for that happiness. Emotions like that were a disaster waiting to happen. She hardly knew Damian; she was in America to go to school and protect the Miraculous. A romance was not part of those priorities. She took those unwanted feelings and shoved them into a box. She would deal with them later when she was home, and far away from chaotic tan-skinned boys with laughter that made her stomach flutter. She refocused herself back on the situation at hand, as Damian’s laughter calmed down.

He looked back up at her, mirth dancing in his emerald green eyes, his smile replaced with a devious smirk. “Perfect, we have work to do.”

* * *

Jason’s POV

Jason glanced down at his phone for the fifth time in a minute. The clock still blinking 2:15, he waited another second.

And another.

And another.

2:16.

He groaned. This wait was killing him, at least when he’d been inside searching for the demon-brat he’d been able to walk around. Stationed outside, stuck watching a tiny vent entrance was fucking boring.

Dick’s idea had been stupid at eight in the morning, and it was still stupid now. Their oldest brother knew they were competitive little assholes, and Damian took the fucking crown. Now the brat was god knows where, paired up with the little French chick, and evading them like the annoying assassin he was bred and raised to be.

Jason tapped into his messages, _again_ , and wondered when, if ever, the others would text. Maybe they’d already spotted the Damian and his partner (and dear god, who would ever want to partner up with the brat _willingly_??) and were in the process of chasing them down, and just hadn’t had the time to check-in. Which, _rude_. He could have been doing so many more interesting things with his Saturday.

Another minute dragged past, and Jason shifted his weight off his left foot and propped it on the wall. He would wait five, _five,_ more minutes, and then he would head back inside. Those fries he’d taken from the abandoned meal hadn’t nearly been enough. His stomach begged for a more substantial meal, maybe burgers and a shake. Or tacos. 

Another minute or two passed, testing his will to stay still when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out.

**_REPLACEMENT Calling_ **

He smashed the answer call button. “Ugh, finally, Replacement. I’ve been standing here _forever._ What the hell is going on? Where’s demon spawn?”

There was a moment of silence.

 _“Good Afternoon, Monsieur Todd,”_ a smug accented voice said, a voice that was _definitely_ not Tim.

Jason blinked, the words taking a moment to register, when they did, he pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on. He swiveled his head around searching for signs of danger.

“What the- Who- How the _hell_ did you get this phone? Damian, what the fuck are you playing at?”

The girl on the other end of the call giggled, high pitched and haughty. _“Oh, Monsieur Todd, I thought you smarter than zat. My name certainly is_ not _Damian. As for the phone, I acquired it.”_

Jason scowled. “Tim would never let his phone out of his sight. Ignorance doesn’t look good on you girlie, you’re a little too late, we already know you’re working with Damian.”

 _“Oh, working with him, that’s what you thought?”_ She laughed again. _“Non, non, non, I_ was _working with him, but I found what I needed. Like this little phone, so_ much _information, so little time.”_

Jason started to worry. If she managed to break into the phone, there was a ridiculous amount of damning information Tim kept stored there. “Tim keeps that thing locked tighter than Fort Knox, even if you have it, you’ll never get anything off it.”

 _“I’m sure it’ll take me a while, but everything can be broken with enough time and effort, as I’m_ sure _you_ _would know.”_

His insides froze, how the fuck did she-

“You’re playing a trick on me,” he said, as calmly as he could manage with his blood boiling. “You and Damian have teamed up, and are playing a god-awful trick on me, and Demon Spawn I’m going to kill you for it.”

_“Ha, non, Monsieur Todd, no trick. I would let you talk to your brothers, but they’re a little… occupied at zey moment.”_

He was still half-convinced this was a crazy scheme concocted by Damian to trap him, but he was willing to play along. She had told him nothing but misdirection and allusions so far, nothing solid. “No, seriously sweet cheeks, what did the brat offer you to put you up to this? Money? A press release? Pictures?”

_“Oh, I was put up to this, as you would say, but not by Damian. It was a nice little offshore routing account with a seven-figure number attached. You and your family’s laxity just made me a very rich woman.”_

Fuck, he was getting nothing from her. He looked around again, she could be miles away, or just out of sight, laughing her ass off and he had no way of telling. “Say I believe you. Why would you call? Rule number in this game, never let your opponent know when you’re ahead.”

_“Yes, you would know that, wouldn’t you. Well, as I said I was paid for information, not murder.”_

“Murder. Ha, yeah right, even if you got Tim, there’s no way you could take Damian down.” She hadn’t used their aliases yet; she may have just been paid for information on the Wayne side of the family. That was if this still wasn’t all a trick by her and Damian. If it weren’t, Damian wouldn’t hold back, and he’d have torn the girl apart. 

_“Men are all ze same, there are_ always _weaknesses to be exploited.”_

Jason had to laugh. “Yeah, right, you’re telling me you _seduced_ Damian into letting his guard down. Sorry, hon, but that’s the oldest trick in the book. He wouldn’t fall for that.” Not in the least because Talia _and_ Bruce taught him otherwise. For _obvious_ reasons. 

_“You American’s with your minds in dirty places. I meant food, and drink for Tim in particular. Fast-acting, odorless, tasteless. Easy and quick. You all interrupted my first attempt, but I found an alternative route.”_

Fuck, they _had_ found the girl in the cafeteria. She would have had plenty of time to slip a compound in Damian’s food before returning to their hiding spot. They could have found a vending machine or something afterward, and she could have caught him there. And Tim? He would definitely drink free coffee if offered to him.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_

“What the hell did you do to my brothers you bitch,” he snarled. Even if this was still a trick, this charade went too fucking far, he had every right to be pissed.

_“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to swear in front of a lady?”_

“The last thing you are is a _lady._ Now, why the fuck call did you call me? Just to gloat?”

_“I told you I was paid for information. I found what I came for. I do not need blood on my ledger, but you might end up with it if you keep asking stupid time-wasting questions.”_

“ _What_ did you do?”

“ _Nothing permanent… yet. I would say you have another… oh, forty minutes to deliver them to an ‘ospital, before ze brain damage becomes irreversible.”_

Imagining his brothers damaged; unable to walk, or talk, or joke, or fight, god - it would be worse than killing them. His throat closed like it was trapped in an iron vice, his mouth itched, drier than sand. “You’re trying to trick me,” he finally choked out.

 _“Hmph… I’m_ trying _to be nice. I’m hired to complete a job, not be a monster. It’s up to you whether you want to wish to take my kindness or not. Now about fifty feet to your left there iz several stacks of shipping containers. I placed your brothers behind the third to last row coming from your direction.”_

Jason held deathly still, his eyes darting over to the shipping containers she was talking about. “You’re a dead woman, you hear me. If you’ve actually poisoned them there is not a fucking hole deep enough, or a shadow dark enough on this planet, in this entire universe, that you can hide from us. You have no clue who you’re dealing with.” God, there were days he hated Damian and Tim, but they were his _brothers,_ and if this bitch thought she could threaten them? He would show her _no mercy._

She laughed again, and Jason may have been reading far too into it, but it sounded nervous this time. _Good._ She should be fucking terrified. _“I’ll take that into consideration. Your time is ticking monsieur. Tick, tock, tick, tock-”_ The call ended abruptly.

A second passed.

Then two.

“Fucking hell,” Jason swore aloud. Even if this were a trick, he couldn’t risk it. This family was insane enough, _unlucky_ enough, that a stupid game of hide-and-seek at an _IKEA_ could turn into a life-or-death situation. It probably wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen. 

He ran.

The French dead-woman-walking specifically mentioned where his brothers were in relation to himself, deciding to take a little bit of precaution he headed in a back way. He was still fast enough in running through the towering stacks of the shipping containers that the extra distance would not make a difference. With his phone still in hand, he pulled up the dial call screen and punched in a short and familiar number. Turning a sharp corner, he placed the phone to his ear.

_“911, what is your emer-”_

He never even saw the tripwire.

He was on the ground before he could register what happened. The wire was a contact release design Tim tinkered with ages ago, where it wrapped the target up from point of contact until it ran out of feed. Effectively hogtying whoever was unlucky enough to become caught in its’ confines. His legs were smushed together, and his arms pinned unrelentingly to his sides. His phone flew out of his hands landing in front of a pair of black combat boots.

Jason managed to raise his head to stare at his youngest brother's mocking face, who calmly reached down and picked up the phone.

“I apologize, this number was dialed in error. Have a _pleasant_ day,” he said, smirking wide. He pressed the end call button and pocketed it. “Tt. Todd, I’m disappointed in you. You let yourself be tricked by a little girl,” he said with a sneer.

“This _little girl_ is at the perfect height to knee you in the crotch, so keep in mind your next words,” called a voice from the shadows. The small French chick emerged; her voice much less accented than what Jason remembered hearing only moments before.

“You’re right, my apologies,” Damian said, without a second thought or grimace. If Jason weren’t beyond pissed, he would have probably fainted in shock. Damian _never_ apologized.

“You’re a fucking psychopath demon-spawn, and you’re not any better you bitch,” he hissed, as the girl came closer to him.

“Don’t call her that,” Damian snapped. “It was _my_ idea to trick you like this.” Jason, again, could not believe his ears. Damian was _defending_ another living creature, one that didn’t have four legs and fur?

“To be fair,” she said, as she kneeled down next to him, Jason could feel her rifling through his pockets. “I was the one who suggested the fire for Tim.” She moved out of his sight, walking around to the other side.

“You _set_ Tim on _FIRE?”_ Jason yelled.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, we barely singed him. He’s fine.”

“That is not any better!”

The girl walked towards Damian, the stark contrast between the two finally visible. She was short, pale, and bubbly, with a warm visage that could melt ice. While Damian was tall, tan, and brooding, looking more and more like a mini version of Bruce every day. It made for an odd sight “You're very terrifying when you issue threats. I’m sorry for the lying,” she said, with a chagrined smile. “But anything goes when it comes to winning.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth.

Ah, there is what connected the two; they were both fucking insane. “You’re just as demented as he is,” Jason growled.

The smile turned into a smirk, “Thank you, I think we make great partners.”

“We should get going,” said Damian. “Security should be here soon.”

“I’ll be out of this before they even arrive.” It would be difficult, but Jason had trained with this stuff before if he could just get to the knife in his boot… He saw the girl flick out his knife from below her pink fluffy sweater.

“Balance is a little off,” she mused. “But I like the carving on the handle.”

“And I modified Drake’s design on this. Military-grade, carbon steel wiring, you’d need a more than a pocketknife to handle that.”

“Do you ever get tired of being a little shit?” Jason muttered.

“I don’t know, do you ever get tired of being an incompetent screwup, incapable of gaining father’s approval.”

“Test tube baby.”

“Street trash.”

“Boys enough,” the petite girl called out, laying a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Jason immediately expected her to be yelled at for the offense, but Damian merely backed down from his tirade. Okay, had he hit his head when he fell, or had he fallen into another dimension?

“I’ll tell them you tied me up, I’ll tell them everything,” Jason tried. “I don’t care about Dick’s stupid game anymore.” They would be caught the same as him, and no one would win.

“They won’t believe you; I gave them a call as our _mutual friend._ ” Jason bit back a groan. ‘Mutual friend’ was their civilian code for Robin. “Speaking of which.” Damian grabbed a black duffel bag and tossed it next to him. “Need to leave behind the evidence for that.”

“I’ll tell them who I am, they’ll think the whole thing was a prank call.”

The girl smiled, his knife disappearing once more beneath the sweater, this time his black leather wallet appeared between her fingers. “I don’t know, kinda hard to prove your identity without your ID.”

“Or your phone,” smirked Damian.

“Fuck you,” Jason said, although it had lost a bit of heat. He knew when he was beaten. “You won’t win. Dickie-bird will beat you.”

“Tt. Todd, I tricked Drake into a ring of fire, caught you with a tripwire, and Grayson has no clue what’s coming. I am _already_ winning.” He grabbed the girl’s hand. “Come on Marinette, two annoyances down, one to go.”

“Bye, Jason,” the girl, Marinette apparently, shouted over her shoulder. The two quickly disappeared from sight leaving him tied up on the ground; no phone, no ID, security about to descend, and no foreseeable plan to escape.

And yet there was only one thing Jason could think about.

_Oh fuck, Damian has a crush._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So up until two days ago, I had no clue what I was going to do for Jason's chapter. Then I was reading through the last chapter's comments and someone mentioned how with Tim's stolen phone they had the perfect tool to mess with Dick and Jason. It stuck in my brain until I was on my way to work, and then the whole idea came to me in one fell swoop. I wrote this in two days, and I could not be prouder of it. I hope you guys liked it! I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below, you all have been so kind, it has seriously made these last few days fantastic reading what you have to say about this story. You all are the best! Until the next chapter! 
> 
> Come visit me at [batsandbugs](https://batsandbugs.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


	8. Dicking Around Part 1: Can You Hear The People Sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A slight mention of blood 
> 
> Come visit me here at [batsandbugs](https://batsandbugs.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.

Chapter 8

Marinette and Damian fled, hand-in-hand, from the tied-up Jason. They ducked behind a stack of boxes when a security team raced past, squawking into their walkie-talkies. A couple of workers nearby didn’t even glance at the sounds of shouting in the distance.

“I think we can consider this a job well done,” Damian smirked in the direction the security members raced towards.

Marinette bit her lip, holding in a small laugh. “Yes, but rather mean. Aren’t you afraid he’ll get back at you?”

Damian rolled his eyes, shrugging off the question with an air of superiority. “Tt. He can certainly  _ try _ .” He glanced back at her, smirking smugly. “He’ll be after you too. Don’t forget you also participated in that little scheme.”

“Yes, but I followed  _ your _ script.”

“Fire meet tripwire. Pot meet kettle.” 

Marinette huffed shaking her head. “Well, the damage is done.” Damage she fully intended to rectify later. Maybe Jason would appreciate an apology consisting of home-made treats? A loud shout rang out in the distance, making her wince. Damian’s prediction proved right; Jason would not go down easily for the security personnel. “Two brothers defeated, one to go. Dick is still in the store, right?”

Damian nodded, pulling out his phone, the familiar IKEA map layout already loaded on-screen. Marinette hadn’t visited one bigger than this before. It consisted of three display floors, the cafeteria and check-out floor, and the giant attached warehouse covering half the lot in the back. The ground floor opened to a large atrium. Two glass elevators and four escalators ferried shoppers to-and-from floors. The children’s daycare center, lockers, and a Starbucks were located there too.

“We should enter through the checkout area, obtain new disguises, and make our way to the atrium from a third-floor vantage position. Grayson should be located in this general vicinity.” He pointed to the daycare area. Marinette passed the center on her way in. Between bright colors, a large jungle gym, floor trampolines, a video game area, and a ginormous ball pit suspended in midair, the whole center gave radiating vibes of a fast-food restaurant’s play place mixed with an arcade. 

“We’ll scope him out once in position and make a plan from there,” finished Damian, placing his phone back into his pocket.

“Sounds good to me.” Marinette risked a peek over the boxes to ensure the coast was clear. A slight tug held her back from moving all the way. She glanced back, her hand still clasped in Damians’. He stared at their connected appendages, then back at her. Dipping his eyes when he caught hers, and pulled his hand away, clearing his throat.

“Uh… my apologies for manhandling you.” His voice pitched a touch higher than normal.

From the heat alone Marinette could tell her cheeks were redder than her Ladybug suit. “No, no, it’s- it’s fine!” She smiled thinly, wanting to burn the butterflies overwhelming her stomach. “We, ah, we should get going.”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Let’s depart.” They emerged from behind the boxes, hurrying through the backlot without another word, or looking at each other. It took a while to arrive at the large glass doors leading out from the checkout area, and by then Marinette succeeded in wrestling her emotions under a semblance of control.

_ Later,  _ she told herself,  _ I can deal with this mess of  _ feelings _ … later. _

At two-thirty in the afternoon on a Saturday in August, disappearing into the store’s crowd proved ridiculously easy. Around them strolled families, couples, bored teens, and hyperactive kids, packed in together with their carts and boxes and food. Chaos incarnate. Perfect cover. 

Swinging past a clothes rack, they split up to enter the bathrooms, changing into new outfits. Marinette pulled off the comfy pink top and blue jeans, changing into a dark red shirt, a black leather jacket, and black jeans. She plaited her hair into two braids and stuck a black ball cap on her head. Marinette kept her boots and purse, the bag held her wallet, phone, a few remaining Chaos balls, a Luck ball, Tim’s phone, Jason’s phone, and his wallet. She slipped his knife into the side of her boot and exited the restroom. Her old outfit carefully hung on the previous clothes’ hangers.

Damian beat her to the finish, already changed and ready to go. He leaned against a wall under a huge Cinnabon banner. Changed into black jeans, a dark green shirt, and a black hoodie, he purposefully mussed his hair, leaving it artfully messy, and wore the fake glasses she gave him hours ago. Over his shoulder hung a black messenger bag. To the average passerby, he appeared relaxed, but between his tense body and darting eyes, anyone trained could tell he watched for danger.

“Ready to go?” he asked when she approached.

“Yeah.” Marinette pointed to the messenger bag. “What do you have in there?”

Damian smirked. “A few things I acquired that might prove useful.” Marinette nodded hoping he kept track of the objects they…  _ borrowed _ today because she certainly hadn’t. 

They passed the cafeteria and in the distance, the damaged aisles attracted a small crowd, roped off by warning signs and caution tape. The broken forklift still sat crushed beneath the giant shelving unit. 

“How in the world…” Damian mumbled.

“Not the time or place,” Marinette responded, inwardly wincing. She didn’t intend to cause  _ that  _ much damage. Damian gazed at her, his narrow, piercing eyes raking over her form with razor focus. She crossed her arms, holding in a sigh. “What? I’m not questioning you on the military-grade tripwire, laser pen, or hacking software. You have your secrets, and I have mine.” He scowled but didn’t say anything else. Marinette bit her lip avoiding eye contact with her partner. She would need to give Damian an explanation,  _ eventually.  _ Especially if they wanted to continue their… friendship, after this whole endeavor. But where could she even begin with the crazy-up mess of her life? It sounded too bizarre to believe. 

They slipped into an elevator with a crowd of people, shuffling to the back. Waiting patiently as customers exited and entered on every floor. Tension bubbled in Marinette’s chest. One wrong step and they could lose, but the right one and they would achieve victory. They shuffled out when the elevator opened to the third floor, and as inconspicuously as possible, trekked to the open-aired atrium where they could spy unseen from above.

They sat on a couch placed near the edge of the glass railing, a perfect view of the entire atrium spread out below. Delighted screeches of children filled the air around the frankly gigantic play structure.

“Any sight of him?” she asked, after a few minutes of searching. She couldn’t distinguish a single person on the crowded floor from up here, much less search out one. 

Damian shook his head, his phone scanning the faces of the people below. “No, too many people moving too quickly. Besides, Grayson leaving himself in an easy line of sight is doubtful. As a grown man, hanging out in a back lot or a warehouse inspires little suspicion, but a man hanging around a children’s play place without of child of his own is cause for alarm.”

Marinette winced; unless handled carefully loitering around children could land Damian’s older brother in serious trouble. “Where’s the vent then?”

“Technically inside the daycare center. Here.” He pointed to the spot on his map. “It comes out of the wall above the ball pit, nowhere near ground level.” 

Marinette tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Why even station him there? We never would choose the spot because of the difficult exiting.”

“Which is why they placed Grayson in the vicinity. He’s the least likely to actively catch me.”

Marinette rubbed the ridge of her brow; that didn’t make a lick of sense. The brothers, from how Damian described them, reveled in extreme competition. Not to mention Dick conceived of this insane adventure in the first place. “Why?”

Damian fell silent for a moment, his body language tense and uncomfortable. Marinette resisted the urge to drop her head into her hands. Her insatiable need to poke her nose into other people’s business goes too far, yet again. “It’s okay, you don’t-”

Damian sighed, dark shadows in his eyes swimming to the surface. “I had a…  _ difficult  _ childhood, to say the least.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Grayson always tries his hardest to make up for those deficiencies. Even when I was less than appreciative of his efforts. Endeavors like this, as competitive as they may be, are  _ childish _ . Exactly the type of activities and bonding I never experienced.” He shrugged, his face infinitely softer than Marinette had seen yet from him. “He might let me win to ensure sure I have fun.”

A bright bubbling flooded her chest, and she smiled softly. “That’s rather sweet of him.” His reluctance to share made sense, childhood trauma wasn’t pleasant. Talking to others exposed nerves and triggers many wanted to bury and forget about. Several hard-fought conversations with Adrien, in particular, came to mind.

Damian slammed his emotional walls back up. “Tt. It exposes him as a liability to Todd and Drake. Thus they placed him out of the way, as they should have.” He reached into the satchel bag and pulled out a pair of binoculars. Marinette did not have it in her to even be surprised. “Here, attempt spotting him with these. Do you recall his appearance?”

“Yeah.” She took the offered pair of binoculars and scanned the bottom floor. Packed crowds of people proved Damian right as Marinette searced; detecting individual faces a near-impossible task. It was like a demented Where’s Waldo puzzle come to life. She swept over the area without spotting Dick. Swinging over to the play place led nowhere too. Her eyes darting from kid to kid before landing on the lady manning the front desk. In her mid-twenties, the bright purple-haired woman visibly chewed on a piece of gum and didn’t glance at a single child. A flirtatious smile spread across her face, as she leaned over the desk exposing her cleavage to the employee she was talking to…

“Damian?”

“Yes?”

“Would your brother flirt to distract somebody?”

He scoffed. “Grayson would flirt with a rock. Why?”

She offered him the binoculars. “Check the front desk of the daycare center.”

He scowled, swiping the binoculars out of her hands, placing them to his face. She jumped when a second later he spat out a word in a language unknown to her.

“He disguised himself as an employee,” he seethed. Which was true. Dick stood at the daycare center counter in a pair of black pants and a striped blue and yellow employee shirt at  _ least  _ two sizes too small. The entire ensemble boarded on ridiculous, but if the daycare worker flirting with him minded she did not show it.

Ignoring Damian’s verbal tirade, Marinette stole the binoculars back to watch the two adults interact. The woman twisted her hair around her finger at Dick’s blinding smile. A convincing display; no one would suspect the man as anything other than a bored employee on break.

A girl, no older than five, bounced over, a box in hand, and tugged on the shirt of the daycare worker, but the woman ignored her. She tugged again, and the woman whirled around placing her hands on her hips a scowl twisting cherry red lips. Marinette could not make out what the woman said, but the little girl slumped away in obvious disappointment. Flipping her hair over her shoulder the woman returned to flirting with Dick.

A growl escaped from Marinette’s mouth; nothing hurt a child more than dismissal and rejection, this was  _ not  _ okay. “We need to put a stop to this,” Marinette declared, lowering the binoculars from her eyes. Damian hummed, his head bent over his phone. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at the consequences of committing IKEA employee identification fraud,” he intoned, serious and straight-faced.

“And?”

He looked up, a devious smirk stretching across his face. “Well, one guy suffered imprisonment for three hours in a locked room with security, and received banishment from every store in his country for life.”

Marinette tilted her head. “Drastic consequences, but Dick  _ did _ choose the disguise.” The effectiveness of his choice was not in question. Hanging around the daycare center in an employee’s uniform circumvented the trouble Dick could land in as a grown man observing children, and if a  _ real  _ employee came through, he could say he was on break or off the clock.

Damian scowled, the edge of his nose scrunching in distaste. “The difference in that scenario lies in the man  _ interacting  _ with customers, basically begging discovery. Grayson wants to remain undetected; we must bring a manager to him.”

She thought for a moment, picturing the variety of ways they could play this. “Or force him into a position where it’s obvious he is a fake.”

Damian leaned back against the couch shaking his head “He won’t abandon the safety of the desk; the risk runs too high.” 

A lightbulb blazed to life inside Marinette’s mind, illuminating the outline of a devious plan. It would cast the last two as mere child’s play compared to endless complications, variables, and moving parts, but if it worked… “He would if he saw one of us.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Tt. I just told you he might not even try to catch me.”

“But he might try to catch  _ me _ . I’m a mystery. It’s what intrigued and frightened Jason enough for him to run straight into a trap. Besides, you pose a liability. If he caught you-”

“Which he couldn’t,” interjected Damian.

Marinette waved the statement aside. “If he caught you, that’s it, game over. But me? I’m not officially part of the game. I can be bait.”

“Bait for what?” Damian asked, raising a brow.

“The trap  _ you’re  _ going to set and lead the managers to.”

* * *

Marinette would like to believe she couldn’t have imagined climbing through an IKEA vent shaft, for the  _ second _ time that day, to descend into a children’s play place ball pit to incite revenge against the supervising adults to ferret out a player in a high stakes game of hide-and-seek disguised as an employee. 

The depressing fact is though, she probably could have 

Which went to show how  _ high  _ her base level of crazy sat at.

Convincing Damian to relinquish his laser pen demonstrated the boy’s true stubbornness. He huffed and griped until she took it by force, calling him a control freak. The offended look he sent her likely intimidated most who drew its ire, but she found it ridiculously cute instead. Besides, he couldn’t accompany her and open every exit she encountered, he needed to set the trap.

Marinette’s knees and back did not thank her for returning to the crouched position in the unforgiving metallic shafts. She quickly shuffled through the vents, following the outlined path on her phone. One turn away and she should-

Light flooded into the darkened vent from the slotted grate and Marinette smiled. She placed her phone away and retrieved the laser pen. Hopefully, none of the kids, or Dick for that matter, paid the wall above any mind. She and Damian agreed Dick  _ probably  _ abandoned catching them long ago and wouldn’t check. Plus, from where he stood, monitoring the vent became impossible; too many objects obscured his line of sight. Giving Marinette enough space and time to set her plans into motion with no one the wiser.

Well, so long as she could get the kids on her side.

Marinette waited in anxious silence watching the laser slice through the grate with pinpoint precision. She grabbed it right before it fell, tugging the cut metal into the vent shaft. She couldn’t risk it falling and hurting a child.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch.” She flinched away from the scorching metal. The palms of her hands visibly red. Those would blister. She blew on them for a quick second of relief but knowing she needed to move on. No time to lose. Ignoring the pain, she cautiously poked her head out of the vent and surveyed her position.

The ball pit laid seven or so feet below her, a minor drop she could make in her sleep. A few children played on the other side, a better opportunity couldn’t have landed in her lap. Climbing out of the vent she dropped into the plastic balls below, landing in a crouch. Louder than she intended the sound garnered the attention of the group of kids.

They turned to look at her in unison as if communicating on a hivemind wavelength.

She raised a finger to her lips, ignoring the blistering heat of her hands, and gestured for them to come over. Slowly, they moved closer. The oldest, a girl around eight or nine, taking the lead.

“Who are you?” she asked, once the group of six finally approached Marinette. “Where did you come from?”

Another girl, this one younger, waved excitedly. “Hi I’m Emily, I’m five.”

An older boy turned to hush her. “You can’t talk to her Em, she’s a stranger.”

“I don’t have to be,” argued Marinette. “If you tell me your names, and I tell you mine, we’re no longer strangers, right?” It was kid logic, a skill she developed through years of babysitting. The oldest girl regarded her for a second before nodding. She offered Marinette her hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Abby.” Marinette withheld a wince when she shook the girl’s hand, burned skin prickling in irritation.

“Hi Abby, my name’s Marinette.” The kids lost their wariness and introduced themselves.

“I’m Harry, Emily’s older brother,” said the boy who shushed Emily earlier.

“Rex,” grunted a larger boy with a dinosaur on his shirt.

“Krysten, with a y,” chirped a young bright red-haired girl.

The last boy pushed his glasses up his nose. “And I’m Devon.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you.”

“What are you doing in the ball pit, Miss Marinette?” questioned Krysten.

“I’m here because I’m playing a game with my friend, and I need you to help me.”

Abby crossed her arms and frowned. “Why should we help an adult who appeared out of nowhere? You shouldn’t be here. What if we go tell the workers you’re here right now?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “And would they listen to you? Any of you?” She surveyed the kids as they thought for a minute. Slowly they shook their heads.

“Ms. Sarah is busy playing videogames with the older kids, and Mr. Conner is watching the kids on the trampolines, and Ms. Lacy is too busy talking to the other employee,” said Harry. Marinette smirked.

“I know. You see, he’s my friend’s older brother. Not a real employee. He’s trying to catch me and his brother.” The kid’s eyes widened.

Abby’s head tilted, her earlier suspicion replaced with eager excitement “Like hide-and-go-seek tag?”

Marinette nodded. “Exactly like hide-and-go-seek tag. See that vent there?” She pointed to the opening where she dropped through. “He tried to catch us coming out of the vent, but we found out and now we plan to trick him.”

“Whoa you were in there?” asked Harry with bright eyes. “Like a spy? Or a superhero?” Marinette glanced side to side before smiling wide as if sharing a secret. The kids grinned and oohed, beyond pleased to gain inclusion into a mysterious adult’s plans. She mentally pumped a fist in the air; she totally had them.

“You guys would have fun, get revenge on Ms. Lacy and the others for ignoring you, and cause chaos; how about it?”

“Will we get in trouble?” squeaked Devon. “Because I don’t want to be in trouble.”

“I wanna  _ cause _ trouble,” exclaimed Rex with a smile.

“Trouble, trouble, trouble,” chanted Emily, flinging herself back into the plastic balls.

Marinette resisted the intense urge to pinch her nose. This was just how kids acted, she knew this. “No, no. No one will get in trouble. I promise. Will you help me?”

“I’m always up for a game,” purred Abby, her smile bright and eager. “What do you want us to do? I mean we don’t have much to work with.”

“If only I brought my nerf gun,” pouted Rex. 

Marinette shook her head. “No, that’s okay. You see we need to lead my friend’s brother into a trap. I need to get his attention and distract Ms. Lacy. We need to cause chaos, but we have what we need right here to carry this out.” She gestured around. The kids gazed at her confused. She smirked, leaning in closer. “Have you ever played paintball before?” They shook their heads. Not surprising, all things considered, it took Marinette sixteen years before she played the game. “How about dodgeball?”

“We play that in school,” said Devon. Marinette shivered; she did not miss those days. Her clumsiness did not get better until well into high school, and by the time it subsided she was so wired dodge ball became less of a fun game, and more of an incoming anxiety attack sending her straight into fight mode.

“Here’s what you’ll do, I need you to gather as many other kids as possible. Bring them here and tell them they’re going to play ball dodge ball against the staff, but especially Ms. Lacy. Once everyone is super distracted, someone will go to her and start crying,” she paused wondering if any of the kids could do that on command. Manon could do it, but Manon was a conniving little sweetheart. “Or something of the sort to drag her away from my friend’s brother.”

“Ooh, like a nosebleed?” asked Krysten.

Marinette winced; she didn’t want any of the kids hurt from this little stunt. “No one is going to get hurt.”

“Oh, no, I get nosebleeds  _ all the time _ ,” the girl said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I use it to get out of class.”

Marinette blinked. “Umm… can you do it on command?”

Krysten gave her a deadpanned stare that could rival Chole at her most petty. “Uh… duh!”

Rex offered his hand for a high-five. “That’s hardcore.” Krysten daintily slapped it.

Eagerness shone in their eyes, accompanying the joy innate in the need to cause trouble. Marinette, with a tight bubble of magic in her chest, hopefully, enough to direct this endeavor in the way  _ she  _ wanted it to go, sent them off to go gather their army. Krysten stayed behind with her. She took to Marinette’s ideas like a duck to water. Repeating the lines Marinette fed her with genuine honesty and believability. Krysten exhibited the makings of a fantastic actress, which she told Marinette that’s what she wanted to be.

Less than ten minutes later over twenty-five kids gathered plastic balls in their arms, positioning themselves around the jungle gym. Kids took off their jackets and used them to carry even more ammunition. Their faces portraying a mix of unadulterated glee and pure maliciousness. Marinette  _ almost  _ pitied the poor daycare workers. 

She left Abby in charge and prayed to the Kwamis the young girl wouldn’t let anyone throw until Marinette gave the signal. She and Krysten scrambled down the jungle gym and exited at the back wall away from Ms. Lacy and the rest of the workers.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked Krysten. The girl bopped her head with a vicious grin. Holding tight to the edge of a platform on the jungle gym, the girl flipped herself upside down, letting her hair dangle. She held the position for longer than Marinette thought possible before swinging back to the ground. Standing unsteadily on her feet it took a second before the first drops of blood leaked from the girl’s nose.

“Caw caw, caw caw,” Marinette cried out into the noisy daycare center. The adults didn’t even glance at the sound. They would soon regret the decision.

The first ball comes out of nowhere and hits Sarah, the other female worker, straight on the head. The woman turned away from the television, where a game of Mario-kart played out and glared at the jungle gym.

“Hey, no throwing the balls, whoever did that come down here right now.” Silence reigned for a tense second. “I mean it, come down here right now.”

“We no longer listen to you! The cries of our people have long gone unheard. You have insulted us, and you shall pay the price!” cried a maniacal voice sounding suspiciously like Abby. Marinette smiled at the speech, which she  _ didn’t _ tell her to give, but added an excellent touch. “Viva la REVOLUTION!” A screeching war cry echoes through the cavernous space, and then it’s chaos. 

A flurry of plastic balls rained from the heavens, pelting everyone below. Kids on the ground picked them up and flung them at each other, or back towards the jungle gym. Sarah and Conner, who abandoned the in-floor trampolines, found themselves torn between stopping the kids around them from fighting and stopping the barrage. They ended accomplishing neither. Marinette glanced at the desk where Lacy and Dick ducked away from a heavily concentrated volley of balls, utterly distracted and inconvenienced. Perfect.

Marinette turned to Krysten; her hand covered in the blood directly contrasted to the glee on the girl’s face.

“I can’t believe it’s working!” she squealed. “It’s like a scene out of a movie!”

“Alright, head over now; we don’t know how long the onslaught will last before it stops.” Marinette smiled. “And thank you for the help.”

“Are you kidding? This is the most fun I’ve had all summer!” Krysten confessed, she beamed at Marinette, her bright red hair the same color as the blood on her face. “I hope you win.” And with that, the girl schooled her face into a flawless imitation of pain and terror and dived into the fray. She maneuvered herself around the flying balls, and the full-on fistfight breaking out in the middle of the floor. She ran to Lacy and tugged on the lady’s shirt.

Marinette trusted the diva to succeed, with everyone distracted, she snuck to the front of the play area and jumped the gate, blending into the crowd of observers and watched the chaos continue to unfold. Krysten, standing in front of Dick and Lacy, had her face appear a mess with smeared blood and fat crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks. Had Marinette not known the scene was an act she would gasp in shock at the little girl’s state.

The woman, although clearly not the best person to be in charge of little kids if her easy distraction was any indication, wasn’t  _ stupid.  _ She immediately searched for tissues to clean the girl’s blood. She called over to Sarah and Conner, entangled in the process of breaking apart the fistfight and failing miserably, to wrangle the chaos under control and to page the girl’s parents.

Dick, aware of his cover blown to smithereens, abandoned ship and slipped into the crowd. Marinette smirked; exactly as she planned.

Casually, she strode in his direction, making sure she didn’t draw notice from anyone around her. Shoppers paused to watch the kids; some smiled, some laughed and pulled out their phones, others shook their heads in annoyance. Marinette didn’t care what they thought, the purpose they  _ served  _ mattered more to her. Cover and distraction. Smoke and mirrors.

Butterflies in her stomach flapped furiously as she approached her target. Marinette paused taking a closer view at Damian’s older brother. Between his tight IKEA shirt, perfectly coiffed hair, and handsome face, (Seriously were these boys models? They  _ had  _ to be models.) how could  _ anyone  _ think he worked here? 

His car keys and phone ruined the line of his pants. Unfortunately, they sat in his front pocket, not his back. Marinette huffed. She could take the objects from there too, but it would be a bit trickier. She took a deep breath, readjusted the hat on her head, and pulled her own phone out, and opened the map of the store.

Time for another performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for the fantastic response the last chapter had. You all blew me OUT of the water with the flood of comments and kudos and everything. It was so amazing. I also want to take everyone who gave me so many wonderful ideas to add to the story. Everyone who mentioned IKEA has ball pits in their daycare centers give yourselves a pat on the back, you all are the reason this chapter took the turn it did. (Even if I did take some creative liberties with the way they look). 
> 
> Second, this is part one of two because I wrote the full chapter and it came out to almost 9000 words, so... yeah. I'm splitting it in two because I have a thousand other things I'm juggling at the moment, and editing all those words at once would have made me want to scream. So, enjoy this for now and a second part should be out within the next two weeks or so. We're getting close to the end here people, but we have plenty of chaos to go! Once again thank you all so much, I can't wait to see what you think of this one.


	9. Dicking Around Part 2: Run, Run As Fast As You Can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Froststudio Chambersonic and their Epic Orchestral covers of a whole bunch of princess songs [linked here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRzP5BOGoPo). It pushed me to get through writing this chapter. 
> 
> If you like music while you read I would recommend listening to the extended version of [Run Boy Run by Woodkid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlEoRm9tEWQ) starting at the line "Retreating into the crowd, she slipped the key from her sleeve into her purse." 
> 
> Enjoy! 😁

She walked over to Dick, tapping the man on his shoulder. 

“Excuse me, sir?” Marinette asked, in her best American accent. She subtly tilted her head down so Dick only caught the brim of her hat and not her face. Not too difficult a feat, considering he towered over her.

“Oh, um, yes?” he replied, a bright spark of panic twinkled in his eye before disappearing under a smooth charm. Damn, he was good. 

She shoved her phone at him. “I’m so sorry, but I have no clue where to go to find bedding here. Like, I don’t see a spot marked out at all. Could you help me?”

Dick smiled, bright and blinding. “Oh, of course, let me see...” While he tried to find where in the world bedding actually was and successfully pretended to be a good little fake employee. Marinette planned to pilfer his pockets. 

She leaned in close to his side, pressing her thigh against his - hopefully he would mistake her actions for flirtiness - and slipped two fingers into his front pocket. His tight jeans stopped her from just taking the objects out with no detection. 

An annoyed sigh bubbled in her chest, but she squashed it down ruthlessly. 

This was fine, she could handle this.

His phone sat on top, so she faked a stumble. She used the movement to push the object into her fingers and lift it out of his pocket; keeping it close to her side hidden by her jacket folds. She waited a brief second before slipping it into her purse. One down, one to go.

“Okay, so, you need to go a few different places to find bedding. You could go here where the queen- and full-size beds are located or…” Dick continued his spiel pointing out where to go on the map. Marinette shifted again; she needed to keep her movements slow and steady.

Once more, slipping two fingers into his pocket, she hooked one finger on the key ring. Marinette moved in closer to point out a section on her phone, standing on her tiptoes while she did, gaining extra momentum to wiggle the keys loose from the bottom of his pocket.

“What about here?” she asked, stumbling forward, pushing her knee into his leg with more force. She tapped on the screen in a place to make the map disappear; she used the contact to lift the keys out to his pocket’s edge. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.” She recoiled, placing one hand on his arm, slipping the car keys free. Thankfully a single key and clicker button and not a whole bunch of keys liable to jingle and give the gig away. Palming the object, she tilted her arm and the keys fell into her sleeve.

Dick remained none the wiser.

Now it wasn’t like she was  _ proud  _ of her thieving skills. It came down to practicalities; the basics of sleight of hand, misdirection, acting, and distraction. All which she used as a superhero with a secret identity. Especially when her goal pertained to removing a cursed object from a person, in frankly, rather ridiculous and elaborate schemes. 

It wasn’t  _ her  _ fault the lessons easily applied in other scenarios. 

“No worries. Here.” He opened the map again and pointed out where to go next. “After you write down the object’s numbers, head to the bottom floor by following this path. You can request the larger items to be added to your cart and check out from there; you follow me here?”

Marinette giggled. “Thank you so much. I doubt I could find the bathroom on this map.” 

A large crash erupted from behind them. 

They turned to the play area where an upended table lay. Kids darted in and out behind it throwing more balls at another group of kids who sought cover behind stacked bean bag chairs. Abby, hanging from the jungle gym’s peak, in a makeshift crown with a flag in hand, taunted the workers below. Marinette’s eyes widened. 

Well, instead of winding down, the ball pit war had spiraled wildly out of control. 

_ Oops. _

...Time to make her exit.

“I need to go but thank you for your help. You made it so easy.” She pressed a hand to his arm and giggled again. He needed to remember she acted a tad suspicious for the next part of her plan to work.

“Oh, trust me, it was my pleasure,” he purred, his eyebrows arched flirtatiously. Marinette held back a snort. Oh god, he reminded her of Chat. Keeping in mind what Damian told her of his older brother, she feared the two boys would get along  _ too  _ well. They could  _ never _ be allowed to meet.

Retreating into the crowd, she slipped the key from her sleeve into her purse. Striding over to the escalator, Marinette rode to the store’s second floor and waited by the top. Dick stood below observing the chaos a while longer. He craned his head, searching the crowd, trying to spot Damian no doubt, but found nothing. His hand reached into his pocket, and-

His body tensed. Marinette’s smirk crept onto her face inch by inch. The gears turning in Dick’s brain were clearly visible, even from here. There’s a beat, then another. He glanced left and right scanning the ground for his phone and keys. Marinette, standing above him, toyed with them in her purse. 

_ ‘Come on,’  _ she thought.  _ ‘Make the connection, you’re a smart one.’ _

The moment he does felt scripted for the finesse he exhibited as he turned on his heel and searched for her. Marinette knew the second he spotted her when his eyes widened. She smiled, mockingly waved at him, and rocketed away from the banister’s edge ducking through the crowd of people and into the store proper. She seamlessly pulled out her phone, making her first turn into the winding labyrinth.

Sending a one-handed text to Damian, she alerted him the plan’s second part was underway, and to ready and set the trap. In the distance, the disgruntled cries of people being shoved out of the way sounded out, she slowed for a second so Dick could get closer. 

This wasn’t a chase, after all, this was an  _ escort. _

She risked a glance over her shoulder. Dick reached the top of the escalator and zoomed in on her like a diving hawk, power walking in her direction. She led the older man through the store, not running, but moving significantly faster due to her shorter legs. A rush of adrenaline thrummed through her veins; this was it; this was  _ it!  _

Memorizing the path to the trap proved a clever idea because she couldn’t spare a second to glance at her phone, keeping enough ahead of Dick proved difficult. She nearly lost her footing on a turn running headfirst into another woman. Spinning on her feet, she caught a glimpse of Dick barely thirty feet behind her.

“Sorry,” Marinette yelled over her shoulder to the disgruntled woman. She picked up the pace.

Her phone hadn’t gone off with a return text from Damian, and Marinette hoped she gave him enough time. Turning the last corner for the final stretch, a burst of exhilaration filled her. At the end, Damian should be waiting with a trip rope, a precariously balanced display, and an assistant manager held in place with annoying questions.

But as Marinette approached the designated spot her heart dropped into her stomach, and a panicked dread replaced her previous exhilaration.

Chaos. It was pure and utter  _ chaos.  _

Several displays scattered over the floor; entire clothing racks lay upended, what was  _ supposed _ to be a towel pyramid but was now a fabric pile, a glass plate shelf shattered into shards upon the ground, even an overturned couch. Marinette nearly tripped on - what she desperately hoped was soda spilled all over everything - before banking to avoid the mess

All that, Marinette could have reasonably handled. 

But it was the security guard strung up and hanging from the  _ ceiling  _ with a gag in his mouth, that made her wince. Nerf darts dotted the walls and floors. A cleaning crew and security guards directed away traumatized-looking customers and roped the place off.

“Fucking merde,” she swore. What the  _ hell  _ happened here?  _ What happened to their plan? _

Despite the questions racing through her head, Marinette was keenly aware of Dick not too far behind her, which meant she couldn’t afford to stop. Turning quickly on her heel she shot off down another path weaving through an oncoming group of customers. She abandoned trying to remain unnoticed and ran full speed. She needed to lose Dick, or at the very least put space between them.

“Miss, please stop! I’m not angry, I just want to ask you questions!” yelled Dick from behind her. A quick glance told her he had given up pretenses and was running after her.

“You think I’m dumb enough to believe that!” she responded. “This is too important, and we’ve gone too far to lose now!” Her brain oscillated between panic and determination. She didn’t have a clue  _ how  _ this happened, but she planned to  _ fix  _ it.

“Isn’t it ‘ _ come  _ too far’?” asked Dick his voice pitching in, probably valid, concern.

A breathy maniacal cackle escaped her mouth. “Nope!” 

Marinette gritted her teeth, turning a corner and nearly running headfirst into two employees lifting a couch. Finding no time to move she pushed as much power into her legs as possible and jumped over the couch in midair, landing on the other side in a rolling crouch. Ignoring the people gasping around her as she bolted away.

“Whatever Damian threatened you with, I swear he was kidding! You don’t need to do this,” the other man pleaded.

She scoffed, even though it wasn’t likely the other man heard her. “That’s a nice opinion to have of your brother!”

“It’s a realistic one!”

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone, tapping on Damian’s number. Marinette needed information on what happened and fast if she had any chance of salvaging this mess.

“Come on, come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up.” The call finally connected.

_ “Hello?”  _ Damian said far too calm and composed sounding for Marinette to buy.

“Where did everything go wrong?” she screeched, nearly bowling into a couple and their shopping cart, she sidestepped them with a leap and continued running, ignoring whatever Dick shouted to her next.

_ “Well, it started when mother wished to gain father’s affection and decided a baby was a good place to start, and-” _ .

“Not funny, Damian! I have your brother chasing me and no trap to lead him to. Where did you go? What happened?” she hissed low, not wanting to take the chance of Dick overhearing them. She made two quick turns and found herself faced with a long stretch of hall with nowhere to turn or hide. Barreling down the open hallway, harsh ragged breaths tore from her chest. Damn, she needed to keep in better shape if  _ this  _ was her condition after heavily running for a few minutes. 

_ “Todd escaped.” _

Marinette blinked, desperately hoping she misheard. “What?”

_ “Todd escaped the clutches of the security team we sicced after him, and now intends to hunt us down with extreme prejudice.”  _ The sound of muffled yelling clearly discernible in the background of the phone call.  _ “He’s a tad angry at the moment.” _

Marinette threw her eyes to the ceiling, craving to bury her head in her hands, but a quick glance over her shoulder showed she had no time for such luxuries. Dick wasn’t too far behind her. 

Fuck. She was screwed.

She ran faster banking around another turn, while she asked, “How does Jason escaping end with our trap in ruins and an employee hanging from the ceiling?”

_ “I abandoned ship when he came after me in the hallway. I set the trap off early to give myself time to escape! As for the employee? Who knows!”  _ Marinette  _ almost _ believed him if not for the slight hitch in his voice. 

She begrudgingly didn’t mention it; during the middle of a chase was perhaps not the most ideal time to call him out. 

“Now what do we do?”

“ _ Well, excuse me for not having a feasible backup plan at the moment. I’m busy being chased by a homicidal maniac with a nerf-gun!”  _ This was the first time Damian came even close to sounding flustered, although this bordered more on the edge of pissed off.  _ “Oh, shit!”  _ he muttered. Muffled crashing sounds filtered through his phone.

_ “Listen, I will call you when I’ve lost Todd. Do your best to distract Grayson. You’re good at distractions, correct?” _

“In case you forgot, the last time I needed a distraction, I brought down six shelves and destroyed a forklift!” Her path was cut off by another person’s shopping cart; no way around, no way under – must go over. Marinette’s instincts launched her into the air, thankfully not as high as when she jumped to avoid the couch. A surprised yell erupted from the crowd around her. A glance over her shoulder showed Dick repeating the same action, adding in an extra flip, landing smoothly on the ground. The tight shirt did little to hide how lean and muscular he was.

_ Really,  _ he could do that  _ too? _

Damian continued to talk.  _ “Less destruction is, of course, preferable this time, but don’t pull your punches. Grayson is experienced and ruthless if need be, you must be ten times more so to outwit him. Good luck.”  _ The call abruptly disconnected. Marinette yanked the phone from her ear.

“Oh, like that’s any help!” What was she supposed to do now? Between running low on steam, no plan in place, no backup coming, her exploitable options proved severely limited. She shoved the phone into her purse and her hand brushed the smooth metal of the Chaos Balls rolling around in the bottom of her bag.

Well… maybe not  _ no  _ plan.

Marinette shook her head. What was she thinking? Using the balls had the potential to result in even  _ more  _ damage than the food court incident. She needed to lose Dick and devise a plan from there. Readjusting her bag strap, she turned another corner and kicked it into high gear.

At this point, most people had seen them and, quite smartly, moved out of the two crazy people’s paths. Which meant Marinette focused on running at full speed and not dodging obstacles. 

But that didn’t mean  _ everyone.  _

A large woman, more busy arguing with a sullen teenager, walked into the aisle with their shopping cart, forcing Marinette to jump over it rather than lose speed by going around, or worse, run into a display and collapsing it. A large gasp arose from the crowd around her and a quick “that’s badass” shouted in the distance. 

“Hey, you know, you’re pretty good at that!” Dick yelled.

She rolled her eyes. “Really? You think complimenting me will help you here?”

“Compliments always help the situation!”

Oh, he and Adrian would  _ definitely  _ get along. “Are you insane, or oblivious?”

A sharp clear laugh rang out. “My brothers would say both!”

Out of the corner of her eye, two employees panickedly talked into walkie-talkies watching Dick chase her. She would land in as much trouble as him if they fell into the clutches of store management. There wasn’t much time left now. The Chaos balls weighed heavily in her purse and appeared a better and better option by the second. 

In ideal circumstances, she would have kept up the chase for longer, but the decision left her hands when the chill music filling the store came to a halt, the intercom cutting in. Heavy breathing filled the line’s other end, and dread pooled in Marinette’s stomach.

_ “All IKEA customers lookout for two young adults: one Middle Eastern male in a black jacket, green shirt, and glasses, and an Asian female in a black jacket and red shirt. Report them to the nearest employee or customer service agent near you. Thank you for your understanding and have a great rest of your day.”  _ The voice seemed professional, but if you had a clue what unrestrained maniacal glee sounded like, it was clear whoever was speaking shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near an intercom system.

Fuck.

“That was Jason. Why is Jason calling you two out?” Dick panickedly questioned. “What did you do to piss him off so badly?”

The stares of a thousand eyes fell on her and Marinette cursed. She readjusted the baseball cap on her head and ran faster. 

Jason left her no choice. 

Dipping her hand into her purse she pulled out a metallic ball with a glowing green paw print.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she muttered. Activating the object of concentrated chaos and destruction with a sacrifice of her own energy, she threw it to the ceiling. It flew into the open air above, sending off tiny black and green sparks along its arcing path. 

Marinette crossed her fingers. This better work.

“Wait, what was that?” yelled Dick.

The strip lights crackled, sparking loudly for a brief moment before… darkness descended. Stunned silence stretched for a moment and then people lost their minds. Shouting and swearing erupted from all directions, several kids shrieked out wails, and music - which in the light sounded relaxing - took on an ominous tone, blatantly out of place. 

Not all the lights go out though. A few displays keep their lamps on. The faint glow enough for Marinette to navigate the store around her.

Perfect. 

“What the fuck? What the  _ absolute  _ fuck? You are a magic-user! Damn, I should have taken the bet,” Dick shouted loud enough above the crowd’s panicked commotion. Marinette restrained her laugh. She had her distraction, now she needed to use it. Ducking into a side aisle with light from an emergency exit illuminating the empty space, she sprinted. Banking another turn she nearly crashed into a cart but swerved around them instead.

Running along the inside wall she passed by display rooms aplenty, but none suited her purpose.

“Hey, get back here!” Dick yelled again. Marinette huffed; when has that ever worked for anyone? She glanced around to find any other place to lose him but found nothing. Blindly reaching into her purse again, she pulled out another ball, the green image glowing faintly in the darkness. She tossed it over her shoulder and prayed it wouldn’t do too much damage.

Pulling magic into her chest, she allowed her legs to carry her wherever instinct led and requested the usually uncaring universe to not let her run face-first into a person, or a wall. Please? Thanks.

A crash arose from behind her and a small grin formed on Marinette’s face. She desperately hoped whatever Dick tripped over was cheap; she never intended for this much property damage. She continued through the darkened store with a rushed urgency she hasn’t used since the last time she fought an Akuma.

The music once again cut out, but the person on the intercom isn’t Jason.  _ “Shoppers do not worry; electricity will be returned as shortly as possible. In the meantime, please stay where you are. Thank you.” _

Marinette burst into the main section again, maneuvering around the stalled people who stand in close groups. People hold their cellphones out, using their flashlights to provide more illumination. Risking a check around her, to search for signs of Damian’s brother. She can’t hear or see him, which meant truly little. Besides, if the lights do turn on, Jason painted a target on her back, which put her in danger if an employee or particularly observant shopper put two and two together. She needed to change into a less inconspicuous outfit now.

Granted, people might have forgotten about that little announcement with the lights going out, but luck favors the prepared. 

Moving slower than before, to avoid attracting too much attention, she strolled through the store, ducking in and out of showrooms as needed if she suspected a tail. Odds are she lost Dick back at the crash, but he could be biding his time waiting to jump her.

Unfortunately, a flicker above her indicated the end of her manufactured chaos, and the lights blaze to life above. Not all of them, but enough so visibility returned to the store. The crowd cheered and clapped and moved around again like they hadn’t just been plunged into complete darkness. 

Ah, the life of an oblivious civilian. 

Marinette, at risk of losing her crowd cover, ducked into a two-part display room and shot straight into the second room. Diving behind a chair, she crashed to the floor in an exhausted heap.

Her head hit the wall with a thud, and she spent a few seconds trying not to die. Controlling the heavy breaths of air her lungs demanded proved a fruitless battle. It wasn’t often she engaged in physical activities without magic enhancing her every move. The chase pushed her to limits she didn’t even know existed. Her legs ached with a familiar burn; she’ll definitely be sore tomorrow. 

Once no longer two seconds from dying, she risked a peek out from behind the chair. No one had followed her in. Pressing a hand to her still racing heart she sent a quick thank you to the universe. She thought she’d been screwed for sure.

On wobbly legs, she rose, chucking the leather jacket - which was recognizable and too hot - onto the chair. A small piece of color on the otherwise black upholstery caught her attention. 

A cloth robin. 

She picked up the calling card she and Damian left. The events of a few hours ago stuck out in her mind like a lifetime ago. A simpler time compared to the utter mess she found herself stuck in the mire of.

Even if she was having a blast. 

Taking another deep breath, she repined the robin back to the chair and cautiously exited the showroom 

Half the lights in the store still remained off, but if the customers noticed they hardly showed it. Her brain still drunk on adrenaline, Marinette wasn’t sure what to do next. Damian was lost to the wind. Dick and Jason were god-knew-where, and if Murphy's universal law of let’s-screw-with-Marinette applied, chances likely lended to both men being within spitting distance of her.

She picked at her bright red shirt and grimaced. First things first, she needed to change clothes and switch her hair. Then she intended to find a water fountain and drink until she drowned. After, she could contact Damian and scheme how to take his brothers down (again) from there. With a plan in mind, she walked into the crowd, making sure not to appear too suspicious. Kinda hard to do when one constantly checked for tails, but Marinette thought she did alright. No one gave her a second glance at least.

The clothing in the area was for children, leaving Marinette adrift. She panicked each time she glimpsed a shock of dark hair on anyone even remotely tall. Years building patience and skill the only reasons keeping her from jumping out of her skin and making her suspicion exceedingly obvious. Her vigilance paid off when the glimpse of dark hair finally accompanied a streak of white.

Jason.

He stood at the end of the hall, jacket missing, a murderous expression on his face. In his hands held the most expensive-looking nerf gun she’d ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. Ducking behind a shelf just before he spotted her, she muttered a curse. Placing a hand to her chest to calm her fluttering heart, Marinette furiously tried to concoct a plan to escape without being spotted.

Her phone dinged with a text message.

She pulled the device from her bag. A text from Damian lighting her screen.

_ Damian: Showroom to your left. Back corner. _

Her head swung left and sure enough, there was a showroom. She raised an eyebrow. How did he...? 

She paused, oh right; the tracker. 

Cautiously, she moved along the shelf hoping the few seconds where she exposed herself to the open corridor wouldn’t be enough for Jason to spot her. With as much calm as her fried nerves could muster, she slinked across the aisle and into the showroom. Darting towards the back corner, she arrived at a vacant section filled only with a small writing desk and black cabinets.

“Damian,” she whispered loudly. “Damian, where are- YAHH!” Strong hands grabbed her by the arms and dragged her backward. Before her instincts fully kick in, she’s surrounded by a dark enclosed space and swung around. A single hand muffling her mouth.

“Shhhh!” a deep voice told her. Her eyes adjusted to the cabinet’s dim lighting before she made out the shape of the person before her.

“What the hell Damian,” Marinette exclaimed. Although with his hand still over her mouth it sounded more like, “Whuu te ell amian!”

“If I move my hand, are you going to yell?” he asked. Marinette shook her head. Slowly he lowered his hand. She tried to readjust herself, but there wasn’t much room in the tiny space. She eventually brought her hands to lay on his chest, her back leaned against the cabinet’s wall.

“Where the hell have you been?” she whispered furiously, glaring in his face’s direction.

“Avoiding Jason,” he responded back in the same hushed voice.

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job at it. He’s literally fifty feet outside this room right now with a look that could kill.”

He huffed. “Tt. Well, at least I managed to evade him without causing a full-blown panic. You cut off electricity for the whole store!”

“Oh, was it the whole store?” Wow, she vastly underestimated the power stored in those balls. “I couldn’t tell. I stayed here on the second floor. You told me to cause a distraction, and I did that. While you failed to avoid Jason, I lost your other brother. I think I did surprisingly well, all things considered.”

A loud, perpetually cheery voice filtered through the cabinet’s cracks. “Miss, I know you came in here. I just want to ask you a few questions, I don’t care about my stuff you stole or the magic. Let’s end this on good terms. We don’t need to be enemies here.”

Marinette and Damian froze still.

_ SHIT! Shitshtshitshitshit. _

In the dark Marinette couldn’t make out Damian’s face, but his hands rested around her shoulders pinning her in tight as if taking up less space in the closet might make them invisible when Dick opened the door. His footsteps plodded closer and any second the door would swing open to expose them.

This was it. Game over.

She held her breath, and-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHA!!! 🙃😈😁
> 
> Thank you guys for the wonderful comments from the last chapter. I've been sitting on this cliffhanger for weeks now, so it's time for you guys to suffer a bit. I really want to know what you thought about the whole thing. This story is the first for many things including writing my first chase scene! 😁 I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'll see you again in the next chapter!


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